And Now For Something Completely Different
by aleximoon
Summary: When Sirius goes to Hermione looking for the truth behind the supposed deaths of Harry and Ron long hidden feelings come to light.
1. Funeral

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author Notes: I'm back! Woo-hoo. Unfortunately, this is not a sequel to Their Room. I know that many of you were hoping for one but I just couldn't do it. It took me almost a year to write TR and I know that it would take me nearly as long to do a sequel and there simply wouldn't be enough time before the next book comes out. I happen to be one of those people who believe that the 5th book will greatly affect fanfiction as we know it.  
  
Now onto this fic. I already have a great deal of this written. I will post as often as I can! Anyhoo. This fic starts post Hogwarts but most of the story is in the past. So what this means to you, the reader, is that every other chapter (every EVEN chapter) will take place in the past.  
  
This fic is mainly devoted to the trials and tribulations of Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Their later years in Hogwarts and then the Auroring academy to where they are now. I do intend this fic to have some romance between Sirius and Hermione. This won't really happen until later chapters, but if you do have a problem with that ship this is your warning! (Oh yes, and Draco will be making an appearance in later chapters because I cannot keep that cutie out of my fics.)  
  
I won't tell you anything more because I hate to give away my plot lines, but this fic tends to be so convoluted at times that I doubt I could really spoil it for you. And thank you very much Mairi (Lady Nazgul) and Vegeta my wonderful beta readers!  
  
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The Boy Who Lived...and Died  
  
We at the Daily Prophet are grieved to report that the rumors are true. Harry Potter, the boy who faced and survived He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named no less than eight times, the star Quidditch player of Hogwarts, and world renowned Auror, has indeed, finally fallen victim to the Dark Lord's supporters.  
  
Only two days ago, Harry Potter, armed only with his wand and his two closest friends and fellow Aurors, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, stormed the Malfoy manor. The trio has always been known for their impetuous plans. The details have not been released as the matter is still being investigated. In what can only have been a rash decision to lead his team into a known Death Eater haven, Harry Potter and his best friend, Ronald Weasley have both sacrificed their lives. Due to some unknown twist of fate, their other best friend, and third part of their once unstoppable union, Hermione Granger, has survived.  
  
Like her team, the young Ms. Granger is fresh out of Aurors' academy and only fours years from her time at Hogwarts, but according to the professors that the three shared, they were all highly qualified in defense against the dark arts. And indeed, the Auror team of Potter, Weasley, and Granger will probably become legendary amongst their fellow Aurors. No other team has managed to stop and imprison so many Death Eaters. Even though He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named was never apprehended, the wizarding world was able to sleep soundly at night knowing that Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger were there to protect them.  
  
The Daily Prophet tried to get an interview with the young Ms. Granger, but she has been refusing virtually all contact. The only statement that she has made was, "We went to the Malfoy Manor believing it to be nearly deserted save Lucius Malfoy and his closest allies, Morson Crabbe and Philip Goyle. The information we had was false though, and we were overrun." Ms. Granger later identified the bodies of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. A private funeral is scheduled today for our two fallen heroes. The only thing left for us to do is to remember and wait. Wait for the full emergence of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers for without Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger to keep him back, who else will be strong enough?  
  
  
Hermione frowned slightly before folding up the newspaper and tucking it under her arm. A bitter wind ruffled her robes. The deep black that she wore only served to make her paler. There were people milling about the different tombs looking lost. Some of their closest friends from Hogwarts and the academy were here, old professors and family. The Weasleys sat together silently near the end of the two graves in one large group. As one, their red haired heads were bowed. Hermione saw Ginny's shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably. Percy draped an arm around her and Hermione noticed that he wiped at his eyes as well. Mrs. Weasley was inconsolable.  
  
Albus Dumbledore walked to the front of the crowd and then turned to face them, the twinkle gone from his eyes. He looked at Hermione once more. He had wanted her to do the eulogy, but she had refused without offering an explanation. Dumbledore smiled sadly at them.  
  
"Today we say good-bye to our young heroes."  
  
Hermione turned from the graves and began walking slowly so as not to draw attention to herself. She skirted the edge of the crowd before starting across the graveyard itself. She didn't want to be there when he finished. She didn't want to be there when Mrs. Weasley had to be carried out or Ginny turned to her with tears shining in her eyes asking again how it had happened. She had just crossed behind a tree when she stopped. Sitting stoically by a headstone was a Grim. No, not a grim, she reassured herself.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
The dog twitched and glanced in her direction before materializing back into a man. His long unchecked hair looked even more matted than usual. His haggard face held two dark, searching eyes. For a moment, Hermione feared that the loss of Harry had driven him mad.  
  
"Hermione?" His voice was a harsh whisper.  
  
"You could go closer," she said softly, not wanting to get nearer to those mad eyes. "I don't think anyone would notice."  
  
"No, no it's better here," was his only response.  
  
Hermione's frown deepened even more as she looked at Sirius Black. They had never been able to clear his name, no matter how hard they had tried. That little rat Pettigrew had always managed to slip down some sewer or crack in the floor. It had been so hard on Harry to worry about him the way that he had and Hermione had hated it.  
  
"Are you leaving?" His raspy voice captured her attention again.  
  
"Yes," she said softly glancing back down at the funeral. "I don't think I can stand much more of it." She was thankful to finally speak something that was true. Sirius turned his full attention to Hermione now and she found it highly disconcerting.  
  
"There was a spy, wasn't there? Just like Peter."  
  
Hermione rubbed one temple and sighed. "Yes, there probably was. We don't know who yet."  
  
Sirius took a step towards her when she looked away. "What happened? What happened there? Why was Harry such a fool to go right into the heart of Malfoy Manor?" His voice was low and dangerous and before Hermione could step away he had grabbed her arm. "Why did you let him? You're the smart one Hermione! You were supposed to keep him safe!"  
  
Stung, Hermione snapped back at him, "No, that was your job!"  
  
Sirius flinched and a spasm of pain crossed his face and he released her with a ragged exhale of breath. Hermione felt awful, she hadn't meant to say anything like that to him. No one could have done a better job keeping Harry safe, she was just so tired of all of this. Everyone kept turning to her for answers, answers she couldn't give.  
  
"Sirius, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."  
  
"It's true though, it was my job, as Harry's godfather I should have, should have been there." Sirius' hollow voice turned sharp again. "But why were you there? You must have known it was a trap!"  
  
His eyes caught hers and held them captive. His jaw dropped in astonishment; years in Azkaban surrounded by some of the worst criminals in the world had made him very skilled at reading faces.  
  
"You did know it was trap," he whispered.  
  
Hermione swallowed hard. She wasn't going to do anymore lying today. She turned quickly and began walking away from Sirius, away from the funeral.  
  
"Hermione!" He roared at her as he followed.  
  
"Hush Sirius, someone will see you." Then Hermione was gone with a small pop.  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione pulled her funeral robe over her head and let it fall to the floor, pooling over itself in sinister waves. She walked the length of the flat, past Harry's room, and then Ron's, across the small living room and library to her own room. Once there she slid into a soft blue robe. Ron always told her that blue was her color.  
  
A sharp bang echoed through the flat and Hermione drew her wand. She whisked silently back down the hall to the front door. She stood nervously behind it wishing that Ron or Harry were here; they were much better at dueling than she was.  
  
"Hermione Granger! You open this door right now!" An all too familiar voice roared through the wood at her.  
  
Hermione groaned. It was impossible to Apparate right into the flat; they had made it unplottable for safety reasons. One could easily Apparate into the Muggle building that they lived in, however. Its location was a well- guarded secret, but Harry had almost always trusted Sirius with his secrets.  
  
Hermione flicked the lock and pulled open the door. Sirius stood in front of her, one arm propped against the frame, his hair hanging in sweaty clumps around his face. A wand that wasn't his own was clenched tightly in his hand. He was breathing hard from exertion. There was a terrified squeak from behind him and he spun around, his wand pointing at Hermione's neighbor, old Mrs. Tavary. The wrinkled woman looked from Sirius to Hermione and then back again.  
  
"It's all right," Hermione said calmly to the woman. "This is Harry's godfather."  
  
Mrs. Tavary ogled Sirius with distrust a moment longer. "Are you sure dear?"  
  
"Yes, it's fine. I'm sorry that he disturbed you."  
  
The old woman pulled back into her own flat and closed the door. There was a sound of a dead bolt being drawn and then the silence was deafening in the hall.  
  
"Well Sirius," Hermione said finally as she stepped back, "won't you come in?"  
  
Hermione didn't wait for an answer as she walked back through the flat. Absentmindedly she finished buttoning her robe and headed towards the kitchen. The door closed, the lock turned, and Sirius was standing at the archway of the kitchen, watching her. Hermione paid him no mind as she took two coffee cups from the cupboard. Sirius watched her darkly as she crossed to the pantry and pulled out a bag of coffee. Though Hermione had always been a rabid tea drinker while at Hogwarts and during her time at the academy, living with Ron and Harry this past year had switched her devotion from tea bags to coffee grinds.  
  
Sirius had yet to move. He was watching her for some sign, for some indication that she felt anything. He wanted to see the girl that he knew, the girl who had been one of his godson's best friends, the girl that had been the brains behind so many of Ron and Harry's most daring plots. But there was nothing.  
  
"Don't you even care?" He rasped in disbelief.  
  
Hermione didn't look at him as she watched the coffee begin to drip into the pot. "Of course I care. I miss them terribly."  
  
She poured the coffee into the mugs and held one out to Sirius, but he knocked it from her hand as he roughly grabbed her arm. The mug shattered on the ground but he paid it no mind.  
  
"What happened to Harry?"  
  
Hermione felt her chin begin to tremble and the tears build up, but she refused to give him that satisfaction. She jerked back from him angrily.  
  
"What do you think happened? What you always said would happen. We would get into trouble and I wouldn't be strong enough to get them out of it." She felt a small hint of satisfaction as her words sunk in. Sirius had never realized that she knew what he thought of her.  
  
He always had been over-protective of Harry, and when they had become Aurors, Ron as well. But he had always treated her with indifference. Not to say that he was unkind to her, but she always felt his disapproval. On more than one occasion she had heard him talking with Harry and Ron, trying to convince them to change her mind, to stop her from becoming an Auror, to stop her from continuing with their partnership. Even before they had started the academy, before they had left Hogwarts even, it had been too late to separate them.  
  
"I hadn't meant it that way," Sirius muttered darkly, more to himself than to her. "You can't hold yourself responsible for this."  
  
"You don't believe that this is my fault?" She asked simply while bending down to gather the broken porcelain.  
  
Hermione stood and set the pieces on the counter, she would magic them back together later. Sirius was watching her again with that deeply penetrating look that he so often had around her. She had always hated it, she felt like he was sizing her up for something.  
  
"If you would only tell me what happened. There has to be more to it than that." His voice broke, betraying a hint of desperation.  
  
Hermione felt all her will waver. Didn't they deserve more than this? But she couldn't, even if she wanted to. Hermione pressed past Sirius, but he made no attempt to stop her and she headed towards her room.  
  
"I know that you're hiding something," he called as the door closed behind her.  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She wasn't sure if she could do this. It had been very hard so far and it didn't seem to be getting any easier. She had stumbled from Malfoy Manor dazed and bleeding, calling out for Harry and Ron. The other Aurors had been there by that time and they rushed into the mansion and found the bodies.  
  
Albus Dumbledore had gotten there first. He had helped Hermione to sit and held her hand, asking what had happened. And then she had lied. And she hadn't been able to stop. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, how the mighty Harry Potter had fallen. What were Ron's last words? But the bigger questions were still left hanging in the air, only Ginny Weasley, whom Hermione loved like a sister, had been able to ask them.  
  
"Why them? How did you manage to survive?"  
  
And again, Hermione had lied.  
  
Dumbledore had decided that Hermione was simply in shock, that she would begin mourning soon enough. But that wasn't true. Hermione wouldn't be mourning the deaths of Harry and Ron, the two most important people in the world to her. And this was because of one simple little secret that she couldn't tell. Harry and Ron were alive.  
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**Thanks for reading! I hope that you're somewhat intrigued! Please Read and Review!


	2. Hermione's plan

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Author Notes: Chapter two kiddies! You do remember what that means don't you? That's right, two is an even number, thus this chapter takes place in the past. Keep this in mind so that you don't get confused! I hope that you liked the first chapter and I'm thrilled that you're reading the second. Thanks against to my betas Mairi (Lady Nazgul) and Vegeta! And Kenzie of course!  
  
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Time: Summer before Sixth Year  
  
"I'm worried about Harry." Hermione tucked a dark curl behind her ear and looked at Ron.  
  
"Well he has a lot to be concerned about," Ron replied slowly. "What with You-Know-Who and all."  
  
"I know that."  
  
Hermione sat at the Weasleys' kitchen table, her knees tucked up under her chin while her feet clung effortlessly to the edge of her seat. Ron sat across from her, his red hair contrasting vividly against his faded blue pajamas. An old chessboard was spread between them. It had lain unused for such a long time while they sat there that the black queen had left her square and was regally strolling around the edge of the chessboard sizing up her opponents.  
  
"He's just become so withdrawn." Hermione sighed worriedly.  
  
"How can he be anything but withdrawn? There are more reports of disappearances and Muggle murders every day." Ron ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"But he won't even talk about it." Hermione unfolded herself and leaned forward, her elbow propped against the table, her cheek resting in the palm of her hand, while she studied the pile of half eaten cookies.  
  
Ron took a long swallow of tea from an old chipped teacup and studied the chessboard for a moment. "I think," Ron said as he set the rather indignant black queen back on her square, "that Harry is afraid that we might be used to get to him. Or that we could betray him."  
  
"We would never." Hermione replied angrily.  
  
"I know that we wouldn't," Ron cut in quickly. "It's just that, what if we were forced to either through torture or Imperius?"  
  
"It's not fair," Hermione grumbled.  
  
"No," Ron agreed, "it's not fair. But as far as I know there isn't any spell that makes the world fair."  
  
Hermione had just reached for another cookie but stopped when Ron said this. She looked at him closely, a gleam in her eyes that told Ron that he had just said something amazingly insightful and pertinent to the conversation at hand, but he couldn't figure out just what it was.  
  
"That's it," Hermione sighed breathlessly.  
  
"What's it?" Ron's voice was cautious.  
  
"I have an idea. But I need to get some books." Hermione began to chew on her lip thoughtfully.  
  
"Because you don't have enough books." Ron grinned at her. He was, of course, referring to several very large stacks on the floor of Ginny's room where Hermione was staying.  
  
"I need to go to the library. Diagon Alley has an excellent library," she mused.  
  
"I wouldn't know," Ron said between bites of an orange fig cookie. "There are so many more interesting things to do in Diagon Alley than go to a library."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes but said nothing. She had gotten to her feet and looked up the stairs. "He might," she muttered, "if I buttered him up well."  
  
"Who might?" Ron asked interestedly.  
  
"Percy." Hermione continued to look up the stairs as if expecting the former Head Boy to come waltzing down at that very minute.  
  
"Percy? What does Percy have to do with anything?"  
  
"Well your Mum won't let me go to Diagon Alley by myself will she? Percy goes there every day for work so maybe he'd agree to let me tag along." Hermione chewed thoughtfully on her lip. I've only got a month before we go back to Hogwarts, though." Hermione began to pace around the small table, completely ignoring Ron. "We couldn't even cast anything until we're back at school, don't want to break any laws, not yet anyway."  
  
"Hermione," Ron snapped in exasperation, "what are you going on about?"  
  
She seemed to hear him for the first time in several minutes. She smiled at him brightly and then threw her arms around his neck, planting a light kiss on a cheek that blushed bright red only a second later.  
  
"What do you know about the Secret Keeper spell?" she asked him softly.  
  
"What?" Ron's voice was painfully confused, but Hermione's smile only grew.  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione chewed her lower lip and turned the page of the decrepit old book in front of her. This just wasn't what she was looking for. With a groan of frustration she pushed her chair back from the table and got to her feet. She glanced at her Muggle watch and frowned, she was late. Percy was going to be furious if she wasn't at the Leaky Cauldron by the time he got off of work.  
  
She shoved her notes and quills away and hurriedly scooped up her stack of books. She dashed through the library, placing books back onto their shelves before she headed to the counter in order to check out the books she wanted to look through that night.  
  
The sun was beginning to set as she skidded out onto the cobble-stoned street of Diagon Alley. Percy was definitely going to be waiting. In the past Percy had always stayed as late as possible at work, owing to the fact that he liked to get ahead as much as possible, and also because the constant chaos of the Burrow got on his nerves. However, Barty Crouch's replacement enjoyed maintaining a very relaxed work place. He insisted on everyone leaving promptly at five. As for the Burrow, Fred and George had moved out the day after they got home from Hogwarts at the end of their seventh year. Without the presence of the twins, Hermione wouldn't go so far as to say things were quiet at the Burrow, but the chance of something exploding had certainly diminished greatly. With all of these changes, Percy, who was abysmally punctual was spending more of his time at home.  
  
Hermione didn't even wait for the bricks to part entirely before she squeezed through the wall separating Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. The heavy oak door sprung open loudly and several patrons looked at her interestedly as she stumbled into the main room quite out of breath. Sure enough, there sat Percy Weasley, a cup of tea and the Daily Prophet on a small table before him. He made a grand show of glancing at an old- fashioned pocket watch that he had taken to wearing recently before looking at her.  
  
"I'm so sorry Percy," Hermione apologized.  
  
"I had always pictured you as the punctual type Hermione," Percy replied evenly.  
  
"I usually am, I just got a little side tracked."  
  
"Well, it's no matter." Percy pardoned her with a nod of his head. "Come and have some tea with me."  
  
Hermione sat down at the small table while Percy poured her a cup of tea. She glanced at his newspaper.  
  
"'Dark Mark Sighted Near Dover'," Hermione read the headline quietly.  
  
The Dark Mark was sighted in the sky near Dover yesterday evening. Ministry officials claim it to be the work of some local wizard pranksters.  
  
"From all reports," a Ministry official told this reporter, 'the wizards in question had a little too much fun if you understand what I mean. And no, we have determined that this has absolutely nothing to do with that wizarding family who disappeared yesterday morning."  
  
"Honestly, they'd have to be blind to not see the connection." Hermione pushed the paper away in disgust.  
  
"Well the simple fact, Hermione, is that there isn't any proof," Percy told her as he offered her a biscuit.  
  
"Percy, you can't seriously be suggesting that-" Hermione started in surprise.  
  
"I'm not," he interrupted, "and rest assured that the Ministry's Aurors aren't either. But there's no reason to frighten everyone if it won't accomplish anything."  
  
"'Won't accomplish anything'? Of course it would accomplish something!" Hermione retorted angrily, her voice rising slightly. "Don't you think if everyone knew, if we were prepared, if we-"  
  
"Hermione," Percy said softly, stopping her tirade in mid-breath, "you don't know what it was like then. I can only remember a little, I was very young. I do remember Mother and Father, they were so frightened, and everyone was frightened. Until something constructive can be done, I think that the Ministry should keep things quiet."  
  
Hermione glared at him for a moment and then chewed angrily at her biscuit. He was wrong. Maybe if everyone knew, maybe if everyone worked together now, maybe they could make a difference. Maybe then the fate of their world wouldn't seem to rest on the shoulders of a few teenage wizards. Maybe then Harry could live a normal life.  
  
"Well," he drained his cup, "we had better be on our way. If I don't have you back at the Burrow in time for supper I shall never hear the end of it from my mother."  
  
Hermione didn't reply as she rummaged through her backpack for the little drawstring pouch that contained her floo powder. If Percy noticed her ill temper, he said nothing of it as he led the way to the back fireplaces that served the Leaky Cauldron as floo-ways. She stepped ahead of him and threw an extravagant pinch into the flames before her, hardly waiting for the flames to change colors before stepping into them.  
  
"The Burrow," she called out before being whisked away in a burst of ash.  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione opened the door to Ron's room and stepped in. Ron, who was sitting on the floor by his bed, looked up, exclaiming angrily.  
  
"Oi! Can't anyone in this house knock! Oh, it's you Hermione. Sorry, Fred and George are here, making Mum do their laundry or something. You'd think that they hadn't even taken second year charms with the way they go on about doing the wash."  
  
Hermione pulled the door shut behind her and dropped her bag onto the floor before collapsing onto the bed. "Has Percy always been so.?"  
  
"Yes," Ron replied before she could even finish.  
  
She groaned and closed her eyes. She had been at the library all day and was exhausted. As much as Hermione loved the library, it was very upsetting to not be making any headway.  
  
"There's a letter from Harry," Ron muttered as he began reading a comic book.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked sitting up. "Where is it?"  
  
Ron pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket; it was looking a little worse for wear. It appeared to be splattered with pumpkin juice and a strange smelling stain marred one corner. Hermione glared at Ron over the top of it.  
  
"I told you that Fred and George were here," Ron said without looking up.  
  
Dear Ron & Hermione, Don't have much time to write. Wanted to let you know that the Durlseys say I can come. I'll take the Knight Bus tomorrow night. Couldn't stand it here another moment.  
  
Harry  
  
PS. Hermione, what on earth are you doing at the library? Can't you just relax during your summer break?  
  
"So when Harry gets here, are you going to tell us what you're up to? I know that you aren't doing an early project for McGonagall like you told Percy." Ron tossed him comic book onto a pile and turned to look at her over his shoulder. "You aren't, are you?"  
  
"No, I'm not. Look, I just don't want to say anything about it until I get some more research done, that do?" Hermione had been putting off telling Ron what she was doing. If it came to nothing, then she didn't want any of them to be disappointed. What if she couldn't do it?  
  
"When you write to your parents later, tell them thanks for that mask, it's neat." Ron looked over to his extremely cluttered desk where a wooden tribal mask painted a vibrant red and hung with feathers was sitting. "How are they liking Zimbabwe?"  
  
"Are you joking?" Hermione asked as she handed Harry's letter back. "They love it! Mum says that working for people who really don't have proper dental care available is a gift. And I think that Dad is having a spiritual reawakening."  
  
"Well at least you got to spend the summer here instead. I can't see you out in the bush, no library for hundreds of miles. Whatever would you have done?" Ron grinned at her.  
  
"I guess we'll never know," she replied sweetly without rising to his bait.  
  
"Supper then?" Ron asked as he clambered to his feet.  
  
Hermione nodded, slid off his bed and followed him down the stairs to where a nearly full house of Weasleys sat cramped into a too small kitchen.  
~*~*~*~  
  
They walked together towards the library, Ron on one side, Harry on another. She sighed happily. This really was how she always wanted things to be between them. Harry had arrived the night before and for his first official Dursley-free day, Ron and Hermione, mostly Hermione, had convinced Percy to take them all to Diagon Alley that morning.  
  
"I wanted to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies," Harry said. "I need to get a new jar of broom polish."  
  
"Because you never can polish your broom enough," Ron told Hermione with a mischievous look.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione gasped in surprise at his innuendo and gave him a not so gentle shove away from her.  
  
He stumbled away laughing while Harry stopped to try and regain his breath. She glared at them both in disapproval.  
  
"You two are such, such." She seemed to struggle in finding an adjective that properly portrayed their level of maturity. "Boys!"  
  
She turned and began walking quickly away knowing that lingering meant that she too would start giggling over Ron's lewd remark. A brilliant display of color caught her eye and she stopped to watch the shimmering light that shone across a storefront window. Obscuras Books, the sign above declared. The magical window flickered and shifted, reminding Hermione of the Aurora Borealis, which she had never seen but had read a great deal about. It was lovely. She was unaware when the storefront door opened and a customer who wasn't looking where he was going walked into her.  
  
Stumbling, Hermione saw that the customer was Malfoy. He glared at her coldly.  
  
"Get out of my way Mudblood."  
  
Harry and Ron were by her side in an instant. Harry helped her to her feet while Ron stepped forward angrily.  
  
"You take that back Malfoy!" He shook his fist at him.  
  
"Why don't you make me Weasley." Malfoy's face was pale but he didn't seem very perturbed that Crabbe and Goyle weren't present.  
  
Ron was taken aback for a moment. There were no teachers, no house points to lose. He had never before been presented with such an opportunity. He wasn't about to let it pass him by.  
  
Hermione gasped as Harry made a desperate grab for the back of Ron's robes but their friend pulled loose easily. Malfoy smirked then shoved Ron backwards. Ron stumbled to the ground with a curse. He looked up at Malfoy and the Slytherin boy paled, taking a step backwards. With a roar of absolute fury and more than a trace of wounded pride Ron launched himself at the other boy. Malfoy tried to evade Ron's punch but Ron was quicker and Malfoy flailed backwards as Ron's fist made a harsh connection to his chin.  
  
"Ron," Hermione cried horrified.  
  
Ron looked back for only a moment but Malfoy saw his opportunity and lunged forward into Ron, his shoulder barreling into Ron's chest. The two boys fell together into an outside display of antique scrolls. The display fell with a crash into the multi-colored window and glass showered over the two struggling boys.  
  
A large man, obviously an incredibly irate shop owner, appeared in the doorway. "What have you done to my window?" he roared, drawing the attention of almost everyone within a block radius.  
  
"We'll just fix it real quick," Hermione said hastily reaching for her wand.  
  
"You can't fix these!" the man snapped at her, his iron hair going in every which way. "They're imported from Liechtenstein, crafted by the Graeme family. It's got wards all over it to keep people from copying it. I'll have to send it back to them to have it fixed. Cost me a hundred galleons, I'd bet my grandmother's broom on it. And you two," here he paused long enough to place a beefy hand on Ron and Malfoy's shoulders and hoisted them to their feet, "are going to pay for it!"  
  
Malfoy made a derisive sound and jerked out of the grasp of the older man. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and scribbled out a promissory note. He tossed it casually onto the shattered Graeme window and stalked off without a backwards glance.  
  
"Spoiled little snot," they heard the shop owner grumble softly.  
  
"Ron," Hermione said softly as she began to dig through her bag, "Ron I've got five galleons."  
  
"I can dash over to Gringotts," Harry added quickly. They both knew that Ron couldn't afford to pay fifty galleons, nor could his family.  
  
Ron was looking ashen but determined. He leaned over and picked up Malfoy's note from ground. "Just go on ahead, I'll catch up to you at the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"Ron," Hermione said again and touched his arm, "let us help."  
  
"Just go." His voice was very quiet.  
  
Hermione was about to argue when Harry took a hold of her arm and gently pulled her away.  
  
"We have to help him, Harry, let's go to Gringotts," she pleaded looking back over her shoulder at Ron as they turned a corner.  
  
"He doesn't want our help," Harry told her as he led through the crowd.  
  
"But that's so silly," she said mournfully.  
~*~*~*~  
  
They didn't see Ron for almost an hour. They had finished one round of tea and had started another before he finally slid into their booth at the Leaky Cauldron. His coloring was mottled, patches of red contrasted to pale white. It was as if he couldn't decide between being nervous or excited. Hermione and Harry watched him expectantly. When he said nothing Hermione finally broke down.  
  
"Well?" she asked.  
  
"I got a job." Ron's voice was still stunned.  
  
"What?" Harry questioned.  
  
"I explained to Linus, he told me to call him Linus," Ron added hurriedly at Harry's look of surprise, "that I was fighting with Malfoy and that's how the window was broken, but also that I was fighting because he had insulted Hermione. He seemed to think that was somewhat noble. When I told him that I didn't have any money to pay him with, he suggested that I work it off."  
  
Hermione poured him a glass of tea while Harry gave him a cauldron cake to eat; he was still looking rather peaked.  
  
"That's good, right?" Hermione asked, unsure.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, "yeah, I think it's good."  
  
Harry grinned and the tense look on Ron's face finally dispersed. He drank his cup of tea in one gulp and got back to his feet.  
  
"We need to go tell Mum," Ron told them.  
  
"But the library." Hermione broke in but her pleas fell on deaf ears as she was hustled back to the Burrow to spread the word of Ron's somewhat good fortune.  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was indeed a bit of good fortune, Hermione would often think later as she spent her summer days sitting at a table in the second floor loft of Obscuras Books. She could oversee the whole store from here, and the place was filled with dutifully cared for book and scrolls. It was far better than the Diagon Alley library, and Linus Leoquill, the owner, was so pleased with Hermione's appreciation of his collection that he had no qualms about letting her carefully paw through them without buying any.  
  
Her eyes followed Ron as he climbed a rickety ladder; a stack of books balanced in one hand like a waiter while the other desperately clung to the ladder rung.  
  
"I can't believe he won't let me use magic in the store," Ron grumbled down to her.  
  
"Well he's had some bad experiences with underage wizards messing up their spells and sending books flying out the windows," Hermione replied primly while tracing the edge of the paragraph before her with the tip of one finger.  
  
Ron turned more than was safe in order to glare at her. "I am quite capable of performing a simple Wingardium Leviosa charm."  
  
Hermione snorted with ill-contained laughter and Ron's glare deepened. He was about to speak when the ladder began to wobble painfully. The stack of books went sailing through the air as he grabbed at the bookshelf before him in order to steady the ladder.  
  
Hermione drew her wand quickly. "Wingardium Leviosa!" she cried and the books stopped in their gravitational tracks and floated patiently for a command.  
  
"He lets you do magic," Ron muttered as he climbed down the ladder.  
  
"Yes but I didn't break his window either."  
  
"The broken window had nothing to do with magic," Ron retorted.  
  
The tinkling of bells broke into their banter and Ron took the steps two at a time in order to meet the customer. Hermione leaned against the rail so that she could watch him. He complained about the hours, he complained about Linus, he complained about the books, but he couldn't hide the fact that he loved it. After only two days of working, Linus had decided to pay him, despite the window. For the first time in his life, Ron had his own money, he couldn't be happier.  
  
Harry was happy too. He didn't come to Diagon Alley every day with them. He often just liked to be at the Burrow. He seemed particularly fond of spending time helping Mrs. Weasley, doing odd chores around the house. He listened when she talked and watched what she did. He was stridently absorbing what living in a wizard household meant.  
  
"Are you ready?" Ron asked her as the customer departed. He was rummaging around in his robe for the key to the door.  
  
Hermione looked up in surprise; she hadn't realized that it was so late. She had been reading a book devoted to the Fidelius Charm.  
  
"What are you working on anyway?" he asked as she put her book away.  
  
"I'll tell you tonight, after dinner." Hermione slid the book carefully onto the shelf; it wouldn't do if she damaged a book worth more than sixty galleons.  
  
"Honestly?" He was so used to being told that she wasn't ready to confide her plans that he was shocked to hear a different answer.  
  
"We'd better hurry or we'll miss supper," was her only response.  
~*~*~*~  
  
They sat together in the darkness, perched on a large, smooth stone that balanced itself over the small pond that was hidden from the Burrow by large clumps of foliage. The half-moon flickered on the water as the frogspawn clustered near the surface.  
  
"So what are you doing that requires so much secrecy?" Harry asked. "It's not illegal is it?"  
  
"No, not really," she said evenly. "Ron and I were talking about how you seem so withdrawn."  
  
Ron squirmed as Harry looked at him questioningly.  
  
"We know why you pull away, and it's understandable," Ron said quickly as Harry looked about to defend himself.  
  
"But that doesn't mean we like it," Hermione added. "So I thought that maybe if there was some spell that we could cast so that we couldn't betray you, you'd trust us more."  
  
"Trust you more? I trust you two more than anyone you know that. It has nothing to do with that," Harry replied strongly.  
  
"And it shows," Ron snapped. "You were so forthcoming last year that you had the decency to not tell us that Dumbledore was sending you away from school for a month to hide with Snuffles."  
  
"I couldn't tell you that, it would have put you in danger!" Harry had gotten angrily to his feet  
  
"Sit down, please," Hermione wailed, this wasn't going at all the way she had intended. "Please Harry, sit."  
  
Harry looked at his friends for a moment, deciding whether to comply.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said again, "Ron and I are always in danger, we know that. Keeping things from us won't make us any safer."  
  
She looked to Ron for support and he nodded his head. He still wasn't sure of where this all was leading but he trusted Hermione. She had done all that research after all.  
  
"I've been looking into the Fidelius Charm. I think it could be adapted to bind three people to secrecy, not just one." Hermione bit her lip, unsure of how to word this. "We could make it so that a secret between the three of us could never be told. It couldn't ever be taken through torture or truth potions and it couldn't be given away." Hermione looked at the pond for a moment. The warm darkness of the evening seemed to belie the seriousness of their conversation. "We would never be able to betray you Harry."  
  
Stunned, Harry sat back down. "Why would you want to do that?"  
  
Hermione was taken aback. She hadn't really thought about that. Of course she wanted to do it, she felt that it needed to be done. But put that need into words?  
  
Ron had an answer. "The world needs you Harry, and you need us. Can't turn our back on the world can we?" He joked to soften the deeper meanings.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and thought. With his hair just as wild as it had ever been and his repaired glasses, he didn't look like the sixteen-year- old boy that he was. Instead he resembled a lost child, frail and delicate in the paleness of the light. Hermione was reminded again why she wanted to use this spell so badly.  
  
"Do you." Harry began in a distant voice, "do you really think you can make the charm do that?"  
  
"I think I can. It'll just take some time."  
  
"Yeah, what can't Hermione do if you give her enough books?" Ron grinned.  
  
They spent the rest of that evening sitting by the pond talking of less important things. It was epitome of their summer together. The warm night marked the sultry slowness that they spent their time till they left for school.  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Are we ready then?" Hermione asked softly, looking from Ron to Harry.  
  
"You don't have to do this," Harry whispered hoarsely.  
  
"Don't be a prat Harry," Ron snapped. The tension was making them all a little irritable. "No one ever said that we had to, we want to."  
  
"I don't even know if it'll work." Hermione's voice was a frail murmur. "It probably won't, I'm only sixteen you know. The best we can hope for is that we won't accidentally blow up part of the Forbidden Forest."  
  
"It'll work Hermione," Harry assured her. Ron nodded as well.  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
The two boys looked at each other for a moment strangely puzzled.  
  
"I just am," Harry said finally.  
  
Hermione nodded finally, knowing what he meant. She pulled out her stack of parchments and began to reread her notes one more time. It had taken her longer than she had thought it would when she first had the idea over the summer. The end of the holidays came and went and then the first two months of school before Hermione had achieved, what she hoped, was a workable adaptation of the Secret Keeper spell.  
  
The idea had seemed so perfectly brilliant that Hermione couldn't understand why no one had ever had it before. If the Secret Keeper spell could lock a secret into one person, why couldn't there be a spell to lock it into three? But her variation went much further than that, it had to. Her spell had to make the secrets safe. That had been the most time consuming part of her research, finding a suitable model for that aspect of the spell.  
  
She had spent at least a month looking for something, anything that could have the affect of keeping something unspoken. And then, quite by accident, she had stumbled upon it one evening in her dorm room. Stumbling upon it is a bit untrue, however, in actuality it was dropped into her lap.  
  
The book's title was Voiceless Passion. It was some ridiculous romance novel that Parvati had been reading. Lavender had been sitting with Parvati at the foot of Lavender's bed, cooing over something horribly romantic, when in a moment of complete rapture, Parvati had fallen backwards in a melodramatic feint right onto poor Crookshanks. The cat in question had given an offended hiss and swiped at Lavender. The book went flying through the air as the cat and two girls fought to get out of each other's way.  
  
Hermione had frowned in disgust as the book, with a repulsively handsome man and an undulating woman wearing very little, landed squarely on top of her Ancient Runes text.  
  
"Honestly," she muttered as the braggart saw her and dropped his maiden to the ground. He managed to give her a wolfish grin and a wink before she flipped the book over in disgust.  
  
"Taken from her parents' home at an early age, the young but devastatingly beautiful Annabelle has struggled to survive. Being forced to work as a serving wench in her evil uncle's tavern, she falls victim to a particularly nasty Silencio charm and is unable to tell the handsome pirate Rodolpho Mast her true feelings. But passion as unbridled as this cannot be stopped by."  
  
Hermione stopped reading the summary and just stared at it a moment. It would be too easy, wouldn't it? A simple silencing spell? Why, they had learned Silencio in their second year. But it could work, couldn't it?  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
Startled, Hermione looked up to see Parvati standing expectantly in front of her, waiting for the book.  
  
That had solved the puzzle as far as Hermione was concerned. Once she knew how to lock the secrets away with a Silencio, it hadn't taken much longer to finish the spell. Now they just had to cast it.  
  
Hermione wasn't entirely sure what would happen. Oh in theory she knew what the effect would be the ability to share their secrets with each other but once it became a communal secret they would never be able to tell anyone else without the combined agreement of all three of them. It could be a hassle from time to time, but Hermione, Harry, and Ron all considered it worth that small sacrifice. Knowing the hypothetical outcome, however, is not always comforting, especially when concerning a bit of magic that had never been done before. They were all willing to make sacrifices, though, and with the frighteningly fast rise of Voldemort, what did they really have to lose?  
  
"Our wands should almost be touching," Hermione said.  
  
They stood together in a circle, their arms held high, the tips of their wands a few inches apart. A cool autumn breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees around them and Hermione nodded. Then they begun.  
  
"Fidelius Taceo Pietas, Fidelius Taceo Pietas, Fidelius Taceo Pietas."  
  
They repeated Hermione's incantation over and over again; their disjointed voices beginning to find harmony with each other's. Nothing was happening, and for a moment Hermione was afraid that nothing ever would, but then a small pinpoint of golden light flared suddenly between them. No bigger than a marble at first, then a snitch, it grew to the size of a Quaffle before it stopped. It was the color of vibrant, spun gold, it swirled and coalesced, vibrating, and pulsating.  
  
They watched it entranced, not knowing what to do. Quite suddenly the ball split into three parts and sped up each wand. There wasn't even time to blink let alone drop the wand. Hermione felt the impact like a small bomb had gone off in her head and then she could feel Harry and Ron, closer to her than they had ever been before, together, in her, part of her.  
  
Then the images came pouring into her, the secrets. Ron as a child burying his mother's eggs believing that he could grow chickens and then later blaming Fred and George. Harry breaking his aunt's favorite vase and then spending the whole day hiding in a bush in the front lawn. Ron stealing Ginny's mini goblin bank so that he could buy a bag full of sugar beads. Harry at the sorting hat being told that Slytherin would be a good choice for him; Ron cheating at chess when he thought Hermione might finally win; the core of Harry's wand; Ron's jealousy at the fourth year Yule Ball, and Harry's uncontrollable fear for his friends. The images wouldn't stop, Hermione felt like she was hurtling along the edge of some steep chasm in a Gringotts' cart. Faster they came, things she had wanted to know and things she would try to never think about again. They swirled in her head making her dizzy, tightening around her throat choking her. The visions came to an abrupt halt and Hermione slipped to the ground unconscious.  
  
She awoke some time later to the sound of someone calling her name, a hint of worried panic poisoning the words.  
  
"Harry?" she whispered as she opened her eyes to meet his.  
  
"Are you all right? I couldn't get you to wake up." His voice sounded close to hysteria.  
  
"I'm all right." Hermione let him help her to sit up. She glanced around, looking for Ron. "Are you okay Ron?"  
  
Ron looked up from where he was sitting, the freckles standing out against the pale white of his face. He nodded at her, looking a bit queasy. "Was that supposed to happen?"  
  
"Well, I don't rightly know, this is the first time that this spell has been used. Maybe we have to know each other's deepest secrets before it works," Hermione replied as she stood up.  
  
"How will we know when it works?" Harry asked her.  
  
"Why don't I go find Ginny and tell her that you really fancy her in that blue sweater she's got," Ron said with grin.  
  
"Well that would be one way," Hermione agreed.  
  
"We are not going to test this out on my relationship," Harry replied firmly, his face beginning to pink.  
  
"I didn't know that one syllabic answers counted as a relationship." Ron ducked as Harry playfully took a swing at him. "Only joking."  
  
"I'm sure that if we just give it some time we'll see if the spell worked or not," Hermione said firmly as she scooped up her notes and tucked them into her bag. "We had better head back to the school, the sun will be down in a couple of minutes and we don't want to be missed."  
  
"Hey Hermione," Ron called after her, "you don't really think that Malfoy is handsome, do you?"  
  
Hermione went scarlet. Of course, if she had seen all of their secrets, then they must have seen all of hers as well.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry prompted as a look of horror began to form on Ron's face.  
  
"Well it isn't as if I fancy a snog with him or anything," Hermione retorted as Ron began to make gagging noises. "But he has grown into his looks. That doesn't make him any less the nasty prat that he is."  
  
Ron stumbled to the ground with a feigned heart attack and Hermione rolled her eyes, continuing on towards schools. It would be almost a week before they would know the outcome of Hermione's efforts.  
~*~*~*~  
  
"So who is Ron asking to Hogsmeade this weekend?"  
  
Hermione looked up from her Potions book and gave Lavender a penetrating look. The other girl was trying hard to make her question seem innocent, but her infatuation for Ron was well known and she couldn't hide the nervous way her fingers were re-straightening an already perfectly coifed rope of hair.  
  
Feeling sorry for her roommate, Hermione replied, "He's asking." But the name of Susan Bones died somewhere in the back of her throat. Frowning, she tried again, but just as before the words wouldn't come.  
  
She realized then what it meant. The spell was working. Hermione carelessly knocked her book to the side as she rushed past Lavender.  
  
"Hermione?" Lavender called after her.  
  
Hermione took the stairs two at time as she climbed down the girls' staircase and then back up the boys'. She threw open the sixth year boys' door without even knocking.  
  
Ron looked up exclaiming, "Oi what're you doing? We could have been naked."  
  
Hermione made a quick check of the room the other Gryffindor boys were absent. "Well you're wearing clothes at the moment so I hardly see the harm."  
  
"What is it?" Harry, always the more observant, asked.  
  
"It worked." Her voice was low.  
  
"What worked?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione and Harry both turned to look at him.  
  
"Oh that," he muttered. "How do you know?"  
  
Hermione began pacing room. "I was talking to Lavender, and she wanted to know who you were asking to Hogsmeade tomorrow."  
  
"You told her?" Ron interrupted. His interest in Susan was a highly guarded secret.  
  
"I was going to," Hermione replied.  
  
"You were going to?" His face was getting pink.  
  
Hermione stopped and glared at him. "Are you going to let me finish?"  
  
Ron returned her glare with equal bite, but after a moment he faltered and finally looked away. "Go on," he grumbled.  
  
"As I was saying," she cast a dark look at him, "I was about to tell her and then I just didn't."  
  
"How scientific," Ron said in a not too quiet voice.  
  
"What do you mean Hermione?" Harry asked her as if Ron hadn't spoken.  
  
Hermione continued pacing, her steps echoing on the stone floor. "The words just wouldn't come. I tried to say them but I couldn't make them come out." She stopped abruptly, sitting on the edge of Dean's bed. "It was the strangest feeling."  
  
"This is good, right?" Ron asked her.  
  
"Yes, yes it means that the spell worked," Hermione told him, although a bubble of anxiety squirmed inside of her.  
  
A smile broke across Harry's face and Hermione's worry faded in the glow. There hadn't been much to smile about since coming back to Hogwarts. Muggle disappearances were on the rise and the Professors all looked worried. But the spell had worked. It wasn't much, but it was something.  
________________________________________________________ Please Read and Review!! 


	3. Veritaserum

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author Notes: We're back to the present now. I'm probably going to keep reminding everyone in my author notes until I get a better way figured out! Thank you Mairi (Lady Nazgul), Vegeta, and Kenzie for your support!  
  
____________________________________________________________  
The morning after the funeral dawned cold and gray. Hermione lay cocooned under an exceptionally soft feather down comforter. Ron had given it to her the year before for Christmas. At the time he had told her that he had grown tired of her constant complaints that they kept the flat too cold at night, but Hermione knew that he had put a lot of thought into getting her something that she would love.  
  
She threw back her covers and stepped lightly onto her wood slat floor. Hermione immediately threw herself back onto the bed with a tiny squeal of surprise.  
  
"They always keep it so bloody cold in here!" she hissed out loud.  
  
Hermione accioed a pair of thick, woolen socks from her dresser drawer. She felt an all too hysterical giggle break loose when she realized that these socks belonged to Harry. She was going to miss them. Pulling the too big socks on, Hermione padded out of her room, her plaid flannel nightgown almost dragging on the floor as she headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. If Ron was still here it would have been done already, but one must not want for what one can't have.  
  
She had just crossed through the living room when she froze and stepped backwards. Turning her head, she surveyed the couch, where a shaggy black mass was asleep. Hermione stepped closer, trying to determine if Sirius was a man or a dog at the moment. Upon closer inspection, she found that he was curled on his side, his hands clasping at the tattered cloak that had served him as a blanket. Hermione sighed softly and padded over to a small linen closet hidden behind one of her many movable bookcases and pulled out a blanket. She stealthily draped it over the older man's shoulders. Hermione leaned a bit closer and tucked the blanket more snugly around him. She had just begun to pull back when he awoke. Grabbing her arms he pulled her down and then rolled on top of her, preparing to defend himself. His hands went to her bare throat, his sleepy eyes savage and wild.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes finally coming into focus.  
  
She swallowed hard, very aware of the large half crazed man holding her down and sorely missed her wand, which was still in her room.  
  
"Sleep well Sirius?" she asked, trying to sound calm.  
  
His hands were on either of her head now, his fingers splayed against the wood floor. His breathing was ragged and his eyes still fierce. Hermione thought she saw something in their dark depths but it was gone again.  
  
"Sirius?" she prompted.  
  
"Hermione?" he said her name again, mulling it over before pushing himself back from her. "I'm sorry, you startled me. Don't you know that you should let sleeping dogs lie?" He cracked a dry smile at her.  
  
She didn't return his smile as she sat up rubbing her back where she had hit the floor. Hermione appraised him closely. It had been hard to notice before through all the dirt and tattered robes, but when he had held her down, Hermione had felt just how thin Harry's godfather had become.  
  
"Sirius, when was the last time you ate anything?"  
  
His lopsided grin faded. "Hasn't been much of a priority these past few days."  
  
"Right then, I'll make us some breakfast." Hermione stood up and went back to the linen closet and dug out a fresh towel. Ron had always said that a woman's touch was most obvious by the amount of clean towels in a house. She turned back to Sirius who was still sitting on the floor, watching her. "And while I'm doing that, you're going to take a bath." She tossed the towel to him and then walked into the kitchen.  
  
There was no argument from Sirius and he headed to the bathroom that the three had shared. By the time he had come out, Hermione had just set two bowls of porridge on the table. He eyed them suspiciously but his stomach betrayed him by growling loudly.  
  
He devoured his first serving in nearly one swallow. He went through his second and third almost as fast. Hermione picked at hers, focusing more on the cup of coffee instead.  
  
"I'm not leaving until you tell me what I want to know," Sirius finally paused long enough to say.  
  
Hermione didn't even glance up from the Daily Prophet that she reading. "Shall I fix up one of the rooms for you then? I suppose you'd want Harry's." her voice trailed off and she raised her eyes to his.  
  
He was looking at her in a way that made Hermione blanch. It was a look of loathing, or distaste. "How can you be so callous?"  
  
"I'm sorry," her voice quivered, she was no good at this! "I wasn't thinking. It's just been so sudden, I think I'm still in shock," she added quickly but regretted it immediately as Sirius narrowed his eyes.  
  
He actually seemed to scare her more now that he was cleaned up. His hair was still matted in places and would probably just have to be cut, but the dirt and grime was gone and his pale skin shone through. Now that his hair was pushed back from his face, his dark eyes seemed even larger and more dangerous than before.  
  
She pushed back from the table and took her bowl into the kitchen. She emerged to find him sitting in the same position, watching her.  
  
"Look, Sirius, you know that you're welcome to stay here, but I have a lot of work to do. So please, just leave me be."  
  
She lifted her coffee mug off the table and headed towards her desk where a stack of promising books awaited her. She took another deep drink from her coffee and then stopped dead in her tracts. There was a sweetness that hadn't been there before. She stood mulling it over in her head, the heady taste, almost like currants, but lighter, and then there was a soft warmth. Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Sirius who was standing now, his eyes having never left her. Hermione knew what the sweetness was.  
  
"Veritaserum," she whispered in disbelief. "B.but how did you get it?"  
  
"The same way that I get everything else, I stole it." Sirius stepped towards her.  
  
Hermione backed away from him. The violation of the truth potion making her feel sick she spun towards the door of her room, but years of being hunted had given Sirius an edge on reflexes and he was on her before she had even gone a pace.  
  
"Let me go!" she cried, struggling against him.  
  
Sirius pulled her back to the couch and forced her down. Hermione struggled against him but he was far stronger.  
  
"What did you do to Harry?" he hissed angrily, his face only inches from hers.  
  
"I didn't do anything!" she snapped back immediately, there was no point in fighting against the easy questions, the harder ones where still coming.  
  
"Did you betray him? Did you turn to Voldemort's side just like Peter did to James?"  
  
"No!" Hermione yelled at him trying to push him away from her. "I would never do something like that to Harry or Ron."  
  
"And why should I believe you?"  
  
"I am under the affects of a truth potion," Hermione responded snidely.  
  
"What are you hiding?" His voice was low and ominous.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out, nothing could. It was all part of that long ago secret. She couldn't betray them even if she wanted to. Torture or truth potion, nothing could drag their secrets from her lips.  
  
"Well?" Sirius shook her angrily, her head bumped against the back of the sofa and she whimpered. "What are you hiding girl?"  
  
And again, the truth potion made her try to answer, but she couldn't. She choked on the words and tried to draw a breath but she couldn't breathe. There was a burning in her stomach, if he didn't stop asking her questions that she couldn't answer, he was going to kill her.  
  
"Please, stop," she whispered, trying to draw a breath.  
  
"Tell me what I want to know then! What happened in Malfoy Manor? How did Harry and Ron die?" Sirius' eyes were almost feral.  
  
Hermione felt the room begin to spin, dark spots were forming in her vision. Sirius was holding her so tightly that she knew it should hurt. But the pain was fading now, the burning in her chest becoming a dull throb as she fought to keep her eyes open. She thought she heard him call her name, but everything was gone a moment later.  
She was back in her room when she opened her eyes. She lay curled on her side, while Sirius paced back and forth around the room. He hadn't noticed her stir.  
  
"You're making me dizzy," she complained.  
  
Sirius stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. There was a moment of silence before he strode forward and pulled her up into his arms. Hermione was shocked; Sirius hadn't touched her like that since her days at Hogwarts. Now he held her without moving, one strong arm looped around her waist while the other had buried itself in her hair.  
  
They stood for a moment like this until he suddenly seemed to come to his senses and recoiled from her. Hermione stumbled back onto her bed.  
  
"I wasn't sure what was wrong," he said as he began to pace again. "You just passed out. I've never seen that happen with a truth potion."  
  
"Maybe it's me," Hermione supplied eagerly. "I've never been under the effects of Veritaserum before."  
  
"Bloody Hell Hermione, this is serious! I thought you were dying," he stopped to look at her.  
  
"Well I don't see why that would bother you so much." The words stumbled out before she could stop them. She hated sounding like a petulant child.  
  
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he only turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and thought about Sirius. She had thought they had all become friends, well as close to friends as an adult and a couple teenagers can become, when he had hidden inside of Hogwarts in their sixth year. But then he had left the school without an explanation. When he finally came back into their lives, he treated Ron and Harry as he always had, but it was different with her. It had been strained and uncomfortable.  
  
She had covered up her disappointment as best she could and continued on with her plans. When they had graduated from Hogwarts, it had seemed that Sirius had gone out his way to make things difficult for her. Whenever he was around, she always felt that he was judging her. She had voiced this only once to Harry, but his obvious discomfort over the very thought of a feud between Hermione and his godfather was enough for Hermione to keep her worries to herself.  
  
It wasn't something that Hermione had to deal with often anyway. Sirius stayed away from their flat as much as possible. It had always saddened Harry that Sirius would never spend more than a night with them. Sirius had always told them that if he stopped looking for Wormtail for even a few days, he might lose the trail forever, but Hermione couldn't help feeling that he avoided their home because of her. It had almost made her sick to think how much Sirius must hate her if he would stay away from the only family he had left in order to avoid her. There was also a lingering sense of relief as well. Hermione often felt like there was something more going on when Sirius was there, something that was on the tip of his tongue or the edge of his mind. There was something unnerving about those dark, animalistic eyes of his, almost as if he wanted to devour her. Waiting for his attack kept her constantly on her guard.  
  
Once he had come, as always unannounced, and Hermione had been alone. Harry and Ron had both gone to see a Canons game together but she had wanted to practice a new hex. She had told them that they should stay and practice too but they had exclaimed that all work and no play would make them very dull boys and had gone ahead. When Sirius arrived there was nothing to do except let him in, offer him something to drink, attempt to make polite conversation, and then when that failed ignore him.  
  
But he hadn't been so easy to ignore. Hermione had been able to feel him watching her. She had tried to focus on the wand movements, on the angle of her wrist, on the words written on the pages but the knowledge that he was behind her only five feet away kept interrupting. Finally, when she had banished the thought of his presence from her mind and lifted her wand, the knowledge that he had left the couch and was directly behind her became suddenly overwhelming. With a startled murmur Hermione spun on the spot but Sirius was just as he had been before, sitting silently watching her. Hermione had fled to her room complaining of a headache that didn't exist and as soon as Ron and Harry had returned she packed a bag and left saying that she had planned to visit her parents and had forgotten. Hermione hadn't returned until she was sure he was gone.  
  
She had felt wretched over that, for like Ron and Harry, she had once truly venerated him. And how could she not? He had been like a tragic hero in all of those Greek plays that her mother had read to her when she was little. In truth, Hermione had even been a little infatuated with him in her sixth year. She wasn't ashamed of it, not anymore at least. It was a natural part of childhood to become enamored with something that cannot be attained. At least Sirius wasn't a spineless, brainless fop like Lockhart. That crush Hermione was still embarrassed to speak of.  
  
But past crushes aside, there was still a sizable problem facing her. She couldn't very well run to her parents' home in order to avoid him, and he didn't seem to be about to leave. With the loss of Harry the need to find Wormtail seemed to have dwindled. But Hermione couldn't stay hidden in her room, or even let him know that was upsetting her. He mustn't know anything. And there was still work to be done.  
__________________________________________________________ There will hopefully be a new chapter in a week or so, I've got many written but they have to go through the betas first! Please Read and Review! 


	4. Run in with the Aurors

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Author Notes: Thanks to Lady Nazgul and Vegeta for beta-reading this for me, I really appreciate it! And thank you so much to everyone that has reviewed this fic. I know that there are some things that might seem confusing but it is intentional and all I can tell you is that it is part of the plot. So please try and be patient with me! :-) ________________________________________________________  
Time: Sixth Year, first term  
As one, Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up to watch the descent of the morning's owls. A flurry of wings and mottled colors, Hermione hadn't been very interested in them since her first year but today, for some reason she didn't understand, she was. A large brown delivered the Daily Prophet to her while a smaller one alighted next to Harry and held out a letter.  
  
"Who's that from, Harry?" Ron asked through a mouthful of porridge.  
  
"Snuffles," was the one word response.  
  
Hermione exchanged looks with Ron over Harry's head as their friend's face paled slightly as he read the letter. Hermione felt a near uncontrollable surge of dread, which didn't seem to belong with the rest of her thoughts.  
  
"What's wrong?" Ron was looking much like Hermione felt.  
  
"He's coming here, to Hogsmeade," Harry added quietly at Hermione's disbelieving gaze.  
  
"He's what? Why would he do that, is he mad? After what happened the last time I would think he would try to stay as far from Hogsmeade as poss--" Ron stopped abruptly as Hermione kicked him hard under the table. Hermione gave both Ron and Harry sharp looks and the letter disappeared as Malfoy skulked by behind the boys on his way out of the Great Hall.  
  
When he had finally returned to the other Slytherins Hermione leaned across the table. "We shouldn't talk about this here."  
  
The boys nodded in agreement and they gathered their belongings, Ron pausing to stuff another piece of toast into his mouth before catching up at the door.  
  
"No one will be at Care of Magical Creatures," Harry muttered. "We can talk on our way out to Hagrid's."  
  
It had been a mild winter so far and there was only a slight dusting of snow on the ground as they headed towards Hagrid's hut. However, dark clouds near the western horizon seemed to be preparing to unleash a storm later in the day, but for now the sun warmed the air and the walk would have been a nice one under different circumstances.  
  
"Dear Harry,"  
  
Hermione read the letter out loud in a whispered voice while Harry and Ron watched for eavesdroppers.  
  
"I'm going to be in Hogsmeade very soon. Dumbledore has sent for me, though I'm not sure why; he did not want to say in the letter. I hope to see you but do not sneak out of school, it isn't safe."  
  
"What is Dumbledore going on about?" Ron was indignant. "Those Aurors almost killed Sirius last year when he tried to get near Hogsmeade."  
  
It was true. As Voldemort gained more power and the Muggle disappearances became more common, the Ministry had become more intent on putting Sirius back into Azkaban. The famous Auroring team of Stuart August and Goodwin Dobbs had been sent after him. They were far worse than the Dementors, hounding Sirius as he came to Harry's aid last year. Hermione, Harry, and Ron had seen the Aurors once when Sirius had tried to meet Harry in Diagon Alley the summer before last year. The two men had come slinking into the Leaky Cauldron while the trio had awaited word from Sirius. Harry seemed to hate them more than he had ever hated anyone.  
  
When classes had started, reported sightings of Voldemort rose sharply in the area around the school. Fearing for Harry's safety, Dumbledore had sent him away from the school to go into hiding with Sirius. But it had been impossible to escape the Aurors in England. They had spent an entire month in Belgium where Dobbs and August had no jurisdiction, but it had been very dangerous and Hermione couldn't understand why the Headmaster would jeopardize Sirius' safety like that again.  
  
"It must be important," Harry said as if replying to Hermione's unspoken question. "It must be really important for Dumbledore to risk it."  
  
Hermione took in Harry's gray face and said, "But it will be all right. The Headmaster knows what he is doing. And anyway." Hermione paused as she looked ahead of them. "What does Hagrid have?"  
  
They had been so busy talking that they hadn't realized that Hagrid's was so close. The trio had almost broken into his clearing. Several large crates were sitting in the paddock and Hagrid was leaning next to one. He heard them approaching and turned with a great grin on his face.  
  
"Hullo there bit early aren' yeh? No matter, I've got a fine treat for yer. Thought we could do a little bit with these Streelers, it'll be fun, las' class before the holidays and all."  
  
Harry, Hermione, and Ron suspiciously eyed the giant snails that, as they watched, turned from orange to a bright blue. Sticky slime trails marred the ground. Exchanging a bemused smile, the three friends put the letter away and approached.  
  
***  
  
Hermione grumbled lightly while mopping spilt Butterbeer off of her Potions text. Ron hadn't been very apologetic about it as he figured that she should have left her books at school. It was the last Hogsmeade visit before Christmas and they had all decided to stay for the Holidays. Hermione had wanted them to visit her parent's with her but with reports of Voldemort becoming common enough that they were beginning to show up in the Daily Prophet despite the Ministry's best efforts to keep it quiet, Dumbledore had told Harry that he had to stay at Hogwarts, which meant that they would all stay at Hogwarts.  
  
"Here Hermione." Ron had returned from the bar and he was holding out a full mug to her.  
  
"I swear, Ron Weasley, if you spill that on my Potions book again I'll." but Hermione stopped suddenly as a white-hot flash of anger shot through her followed quickly by fear. She was so surprised by it that she didn't even notice that Ron had spilled the replacement mug of Butterbeer again. "What is it?" she whispered.  
  
"They're here," Harry muttered darkly.  
  
Hermione looked at Harry. His fists were clenching the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles were white. His face was ashen and his eyes flashed as he stared across the room. Hermione followed his gaze. The Aurors who were after Sirius were sitting at a far table in a darkened corner. Both were wearing robes of a dark, indiscernible shade. August was the larger of the two but they were both so far bent over their table that it would be impossible to tell.  
  
"They must have tracked him here," Ron's voice was equally low. "Have you heard from him since yesterday?"  
  
"No, I would have told you if I had. What are they looking at?"  
  
Hermione squinted as she tried to make out what the two Aurors were examining so closely. However, it was hard to see across the room amidst the smoky dimness and the mass of happy students about to head back to school.  
  
"I can't see, is it parchments?" Ron said. "Everyone is going back, what do we do?"  
  
Hermione came to a sudden decision and stood up. "Go on ahead," she muttered while pulling her book bag on and picking up her Potions book.  
  
"What are you doing?" Harry questioned.  
  
"Just go on, I'll be fine," said Hermione as she set off across the room.  
  
She had to make it look accidental, it couldn't seem like she was making a beeline for their table. Instead she headed to the bar first, her book held firmly in front of her. She pretended to scan the pages as if she were reading. Hermione was rather skilled at walking and reading at the same time so the fact that she smashed head long into the Aurors' table after skirting the edge of the room was purely intentional, though she pretended to be just what she appeared to be, a lost bookworm with her head in the clouds.  
  
"I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried as papers went everywhere. She kneeled down immediately, pretending to help sort out the mess that she had made.  
  
"Stupid girl," Dobbs hissed his small blue eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Watch where you're going."  
  
Hermione grabbed madly at whatever she could, scanning things quickly before handing them back. There were memos from the head office, a furious letter from Fudge about their lack of success, and then a map of Hogsmeade. It wasn't a magical map like the Marauders, but circled in crimson ink were places all over Hogsmeade, secret places. Most were new to Hermione, but two leapt out at her, the tunnel under the shrieking shack that would lead to the Whomping Willow and the cave; Sirius' cave.  
  
"What are you doing?" Dobbs' voice was no longer angry, but it held a suspicious inquisitiveness.  
  
Hermione found herself pulled to her feet by the other Auror, August, and she felt a surge of panic as they examined her. She looked around the room but most of the students were gone. Harry and Ron had vanished. They leaned closer to her and she thought momentarily about calling out.  
  
"There you are Hermione!" Ron's voice came from the door. "Come on, we're waiting."  
  
With a rush of relief fueling her strength Hermione pulled out of their grasp and ran to Ron. She glanced back and saw the Aurors watching her still. Ron grasped her arm then and pulled her outside. They walked along with the other students for a few meters before Ron pulled her down a side- alley.  
  
"Well?" Harry was waiting for them.  
  
"They know about the cave," Hermione whispered as she tried to picture the map in her head once again. "They know about the tunnel under the Shrieking Shack too but not the one under Honeydukes. At least I don't think they do."  
  
"If he was here, he would be in the cave, wouldn't he? We have to go warn him." Harry started pacing.  
  
"He'll have to leave but where can he go?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione curled a lock of hair around one finger as she thought. Where would he be safe? Where could the Aurors not go? And then a spark of inspiration came to her.  
  
"Hogwarts."  
  
"What?" Ron and Harry said in unison as they turned to stare at her.  
  
"We have to get Snuffles into Hogwarts; it's the safest place. Dumbledore can keep the Aurors from entering and there must be thousands of places to hide." Hermione seemed to be forming the idea as she spoke.  
  
"Okay, well, how do we get him there?" Ron asked Hermione.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"We'll go get him and then take the tunnel back through the witch," Harry said firmly.  
  
"And no one is going to notice us smuggling him through Hogsmeade and into Honeydukes?" Ron questioned.  
  
"Not with this they won't." Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak. "I thought that if an opportunity to see Sirius arose, I wasn't going to come unprepared," Harry explained to Hermione at her incredulous look.  
  
"Well if we have the cloak, why don't we just walk him back through the front doors of the school?"  
  
"Ron," Hermione said, "by the time we go get him it will be very late."  
  
"And I don't fancy trying to sneak him past Snape either," Harry added for their Potions professor was going to be checking them off as they returned to Hogwarts.  
  
"That's right," Ron frowned. "I had forgotten about him."  
  
"Quiet," Harry commanded.  
  
They fell silent and watched the mouth of the alley as two figures headed past. Hermione was thankful for the dark shadows that hid them from the Aurors. In their hands they held the map of Hogsmeade.  
  
"They're heading towards the Shrieking Shack," whispered Ron once they had passed.  
  
"Let's go." Harry tucked his invisibility cloak away and led them out of darkness.  
  
They could go faster without the cloak and there were still enough Hogwarts students trickling through the crowds that they wouldn't stick out too much. It was sneaking back into town with Sirius that was going to be difficult. If Hermione could remember correctly, it had taken them almost a half hour to get to the cave the last time she had gone there. And then, of course, she expected Sirius to not be entirely agreeable over the whole matter.  
  
***  
  
They climbed carefully over the sharp rocks. The sun was almost set and the walk to the cave was very dark but they hadn't dared to light a wand in case anyone was watching. It was rough going and Hermione's feet were terribly sore by the time they reached the crevasse scarring the ground. Harry slipped down first and helped Hermione while Ron followed behind constantly watching for movement in the night.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry called hopefully.  
  
Hermione looked around at the cave's walls. It was icy cold and the lichen covering the walls was covered with a veil of frost. There was no light other than the sliver of moonlight that shined through the opening from the crescent in the sky.  
  
"Sirius?" Harry called again as he moved deeper into the cave.  
  
"Isn't he here?" Ron's voice echoed against the walls.  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
Hermione hurried after Harry when she heard him exclaim. Throwing caution to the wind she pulled out her wand, whispered lumos and then the cave was lit with a bright flickering light. Harry was crouched next to a still form in the back.  
  
She gasped and moved to kneel next to Harry. "Is he all right?"  
  
"I don't know," said Harry sounding frantic, "he's hurt."  
  
"Look here." Hermione pulled on the tattered cloak that Sirius was wrapped in and they saw a sticky darkness staining the side of his robes. "It is several days old. It looks like a curse wound."  
  
"Sirius, Sirius you have to wake up now." Harry commanded pulling on his guardian sharply.  
  
Hermione pulled at his robe until she could see the wound. He had tried to staunch the bleeding with a compress of mugwort and spikenard but he hadn't done it very well. She pulled it off and set her bag on the ground. Hermione dug through it until she found a small pouch from which she retrieved several smaller bags containing different herbs.  
  
Harry looked up momentarily distracted and asked, "You keep Potions ingredients on you?"  
  
"Just a few of the most useful ones," Hermione replied as she folded a handkerchief several times over and then, using a stone, began to grind up a sprig of lavender and a nugget of myrrh. "Here, use this to wake him up." Hermione paused and pulled a small glass vial from her bag.  
  
"You have smelling salts?" Harry was now staring at Hermione in complete amazement.  
  
"My dad is afraid of pigeons and he sometimes gets a little dizzy when he sees them. Mum and I just got use to carrying some with us." Hermione added a few drops of lotus oil to her pile of powder and started to fold it over again several times.  
  
"What are you two doing?" Ron had finally given up his post and entered the cave. "Did you find him or not? Is he all right and what are you doing Hermione?"  
  
"Sirius is hurt. Hermione is making something to heal the wound," Harry said while holding the bottle under Sirius' nose.  
  
"It won't heal the wound. Give me your belt, Harry," Hermione ordered as she placed the compress against the wound. "It will hopefully stop the bleeding for a little while and more importantly, it should mask the odor." At Ron and Harry's confused look she explained, "I think that the Aurors are so close to Sirius because they've been tracking his blood. It's not hard if you know the right spells." Hermione looped Harry's belt around Sirius' thins waist and tightened it over the compress, holding it in place.  
  
"How did you ever get so smart Hermione?" a gruff voice asked from below.  
  
All three started at Sirius' words. He had opened his eyes and was watching them, Harry's hand still holding the smelling salts a few millimeters beneath his nose.  
  
"Sirius," said Harry sounding relieved, "come on, we've got to get you out of here."  
  
Ron had moved back to the entrance of the cave. "Hurry, I see a light, I think they're coming."  
  
Sirius did not argue as Hermione and Harry helped him to his feet. He swayed there and Harry had to help him to the exit.  
  
"Ron, I don't think I can get him down to Hogsmeade alone," Harry called.  
  
Ron immediately went to Sirius' other side to help keep the man standing while Hermione took point. She extinguished her wand and they started back towards Hogsmeade. At one point near the base of the rocky hill they had to stop and hide in the shadows as two men made they're own way cautiously up the hill.  
  
"We won't all fit under the invisibility cloak," Ron said once they reached the edge of town.  
  
Hermione reached around Harry to pull the cloak from his bag. "You two have to help Sirius," she said and threw the cloak over their shoulders.  
  
"But what about you?" came Harry's disembodied voice.  
  
"I will wait a few minutes in the shop before following after you. No one ever expects me to be breaking rules anyway."  
  
She could hear Ron and Harry having a muted exchange. Sirius, it appeared, seemed to have passed out again. "Come on Harry," Hermione exclaimed finally, "we don't have time to stand here and argue about it." And she turned and walked off not waiting for a reply.  
  
There weren't any students left in Hogsmeade but Hermione walked with such purpose into Honeydukes that no questioned her. She stood near some large barrels of blood imps and pretended to peruse its contents. An invisible hand came down on her arm and even though she was expecting it, the touch was still surprising. There was a squeeze and then the hand pulled away. She knew they had gone. Hermione waited until a kindly looking witch in green was no longer standing next to her and then she dropped to her knees. The counter was only a few feet away, once past that she would be down in the cellar, and in no time the tunnel after that. She would have to take off her bag and carry it in her arms; the tunnel was too small otherwise.  
  
Hermione froze. She didn't have her bag. In their rush to escape the cave she had left it on the frozen floor next to Sirius' old bandage. She couldn't go back for it, there wasn't time, she couldn't risk running into the Aurors. She was about to lunge behind the counter when a pair of feet walked in front of her. Hermione looked up and felt her stomach drop. It was August.  
  
"Why hullo there," he said coolly as he reached down and pulled her to her feet.  
  
"Let me go, I have to get back to school, I'm late already." Hermione struggled vainly.  
  
"Oh don't worry," Dobbs was walking towards them, "you'll be back to school in no time, we only have a few questions for you." In his hands was her book bag.  
  
"What are you doing to her?" This new voice belonged to the kindly witch in green.  
  
"Official Ministry business Ma'am," August said swiftly and he pulled Hermione outside.  
  
She struggled against them as they pulled her down the snowy road but to no avail. They walked for what seemed like an hour, although it was probably only fifteen minutes, before they stopped suddenly at the door of a little blue house with a gingerbread awning and pulled her inside.  
  
"Let me go!" she cried out.  
  
As soon as the door was closed, they did. The room seemed virtually barren; a few pieces of old furniture had been pushed against the side wall as, the wood floors were covered in a layer of dust. Hermione moved to the farthest wall and glared at them defiantly even though she felt that at any moment she was going to be very sick.  
  
"I have to get back to school! I'll be missed!" Hermione tried to sound calm but she doubted it was working very well when the two Aurors smirked at her.  
  
"Won't you please have a seat Ms. Granger?" Dobbs motioned with his wand and a table, followed quickly by a chair, zoomed from the shadows coming to rest in the center of the room.  
  
Hermione stood with her back to the wall, her dark hair disheveled from the earlier struggle. "How do you know my name?"  
  
"You are Hermione A. Granger, sixth year, Gryffindor Tower aren't you?" August came forward, set her bag on the table, and pulled forth her Potions book. "You have that written in each of your books."  
  
August continued around the table towards her, his unadorned gray robes billowing behind him in an ominous fashion that distinctly reminded her of Professor Snape. Hermione stepped further back but there was nowhere to go since she was incapable of fading into wall. The man grasped her arm painfully and tugged her away from the only reassuring part in the room. She found herself forcibly propelled into the chair.  
  
"We have very little time to spare in dawdling with an insignificant little girl." Dobbs flicked his wand and another chair joined the table across from Hermione. "You will also find that we have very little patience. Where is Sirius Black?"  
  
Hermione answered with a question of her own. "Why would I know anything about Sirius Black?"  
  
"There is nothing I find more insulting than being patronized, girl."  
  
While Dobbs talked, August stood upsettingly close behind Hermione. He swooped down on her and seized her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.  
  
"We've been authorized to use any means necessary in finding Black, and I do mean any means." August's voice was menacing.  
  
"But really, we would prefer to do this nicely." Dobb's voice drew Hermione's eyes back to his.  
  
"I cannot see why you would protect this murderer!" August barked drawing her attention again.  
  
"He's not a murderer!" Hermione snapped and then bit her tongue.  
  
A triumphant smile spread across both of the Aurors' faces.  
  
"Oh he's not is he?" Dobbs asked jovially.  
  
Hermione only sank deeper into the chair and glared at him.  
  
"This is ridiculous," snapped August, "I'm not waiting anymore."  
  
Hermione glanced at him and saw his wand pointing at her. There was no time to reach for her own wand, no time to duck, there wasn't even time to flinch as the Imperius curse hit her. And then, of course, she didn't want to duck, flinch, or go for her wand. And why would she? This chair was so comfortable. And the Aurors were smiling at her now. Dobbs did have a nice smile, his teeth were so white, her Mum would have liked that.  
  
"Now Hermione; where is Sirius Black?"  
  
A screaming pain rocketed through Hermione's head and her hands covered her eyes as two voices in her head suddenly waged for control. She knew that she had to remember what Mad Eye had said. She must gain control, but she had never fully mastered fighting the Imperius curse then and the chair really was comfortable.  
  
"Fight it!" her subconscious screamed.  
  
"She's fighting," August said and Dobbs nodded as he pointed his own wand at her.  
  
"Imperio."  
  
Under the effects of two Imperius curses Hermione felt her will waver and then break. She smiled dully at them and rubbed her fingers against her robe-covered knees. She wished that she didn't have to wear black all the time. Lavender and Parvati constantly complained about the lack of color options in the school dress code. Hermione maintained that she didn't care about such things but secretly she agreed with them. Black made her look so pale.  
  
"Where is Black?"  
  
Pulled back from her reverie by August's impatient voice Hermione blinked at the Aurors. She wanted to tell them, of course she did but the words wouldn't come out. She could see them disappearing under the invisibility cloak but she couldn't say so. Hermione wanted to say where the hidden tunnel was, but her voice was so dry. Unable to speak, Hermione's mind wandered away from the question.  
  
She could see snow through the far window. She liked snow. It was so wet and so cold and so soft. And look, there was the Headmaster as well. She liked the Headmaster. The door exploded inward and Hermione supposed that while she might not like explosions that much, this one was very colorful with lots of sparks.  
  
The Headmaster took one look at Hermione sitting complacently in the chair and uttered a curse that Hermione, in her hazy state, didn't hear. August and Dobbs, who had been so surprised by the sudden appearance of Albus Dumbledore that they hadn't even shifted their wands away from Hermione, went flying across the room.  
  
"Finite Incantatum!"  
  
The world came rushing back to Hermione as the warm happiness was suddenly purged from her by the Headmaster's words. She sagged against the table, trying to catch her breath.  
  
Ron appeared in the shattered doorway. "Hermione? Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" He came to her side and helped her to her feet.  
  
"I'm all right," she whispered as she looked at Professor Dumbledore who was looming over the two downed Aurors looking as if he was about to unleash an apocalypse.  
  
"How dare you." His voice was low and steady but Hermione shivered. "How dare you use an Unforgivable Curse against one of my students."  
  
Dobbs and August cautiously got to their feet, both bleeding from various wounds. They were furious but frightened.  
  
"We have been authorized by the Ministry to use certain curses." August tried to explain but the Headmaster cut him off.  
  
"The Ministry no longer has jurisdiction over my students."  
  
"That girl knows the location of Sirius Black." Dobbs pointed at Hermione.  
  
"Is that right?" the Headmaster mused softly.  
  
"She was in the cave where he was hiding. She helped him escape before we could corner him. You must let us question her before he gets even further away." There was desperation in Dobbs' voice now.  
  
"Were you in that cave, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked her kindly, the fury in his eyes disappearing when he looked at her.  
  
"Y.yes I was," Hermione replied to the look in Dumbledore's eyes that was urging her to tell the truth.  
  
"And what were you doing in that cave?" Dumbledore asked, but he wasn't looking at her, instead he was looking at Ron.  
  
Ron, picking up on his cue, stepped forward. "She was with me."  
  
"They were both there, they both helped him!" August was triumphant.  
  
"I ask again, what were you doing there?" Dumbledore ignored August.  
  
"We were.we were." Ron stammered nervously as his ears went scarlet and then Hermione knew what he was supposed to say.  
  
Hermione threaded her fingers with Ron and leaned close against him. "We're in love," she told the Headmaster.  
  
Ron relaxed, obviously pleased about not having to actually talk about just what two sixteen-year-old teenagers were doing alone in a cave.  
  
"While I frown upon such physical relationships amongst my students," Dumbledore was speaking to the Aurors again, "it is hardly worth such an interrogation. Get your things Ms. Granger."  
  
She didn't have to be told twice. Hermione let go of Ron's hand and swooped towards her bag that had been left next to Dobbs' chair. She slipped her Potions book away and stepped back to Ron.  
  
"I want you to leave this town. I do not want you anywhere near my school." The Headmaster was still speaking in his soft almost cheery voice but there was a definite threat in his tone.  
  
"But Sirius Bl." August tried to say.  
  
"I can assure you that Sirius Black is no longer in Hogsmeade." Dumbledore turned to look at Ron and Hermione. "In fact, I believe that he made his escape safely while you were busy manhandling Ms. Granger."  
  
The Headmaster turned his back on them and led Hermione and Ron outside. He paused after the door was closed and examined Hermione closely.  
  
"You are unhurt?" he asked while holding his lighted wand near her face. She nodded and opened her mouth to speak but stopped when he shook his head. "Speak of nothing till we are back in the school."  
  
They headed back through town and behind Honeydukes they came upon a trail that Hermione had never noticed before. It appeared to be a short cut. Hermione assumed it to be magical, for it took them only a few minutes to reach the front doors of the school. They stopped in the entrance as the Headmaster turned towards them.  
  
"I do not agree with what you have done. It was very foolish of you to risk yourselves. Those Aurors are well known for using duplicitous means in order to get information and you are lucky that you weren't hurt."  
  
Hermione guiltily dropped her eyes to the ground and studied the Headmaster's shoes. They were pointy and aquamarine.  
  
"Of course, had you not gone to his aid, it is quite probable that Sirius would be dead now, his curse wound was poisoned. Madame Pomfrey is tending him now. You'll find Harry with him in the hospital wing." The Headmaster turned away, walked through the entrance hall, and disappeared through a side door.  
  
Ron looked at Hermione and she looked back at him. They turned together and wordlessly headed up the main stairs, taking them two at a time.  
  
Harry was waiting impatiently for them outside of the hospital wing. He had been pacing back and forth but stopped as they broke through a door and into his corridor. He ran to them and swept Hermione into a hug.  
  
"Are you all right? We were so worried when you didn't come. Ron even went back out with the invisibility cloak on and saw them dragging you off."  
  
"I wanted to go after you then but I didn't think I could take both of them," Ron added.  
  
"I'm fine." Hermione struggled out of Harry's grasp. "Really I'm fine. How's Sirius?"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey said he would be all right. They poisoned him can you believe it? Madame Pomfrey said that it happened yesterday some sort of curse, she wouldn't say what, probably doesn't want us to get any ideas." Harry was furious. "It'll take a week or so to work its way out of his system."  
  
"Why didn't he tell us he was hurt when he wrote you?" Ron asked.  
  
"Probably being noble or something," Harry grumbled.  
  
"Is he awake?" Hermione wondered trying to calm Harry.  
  
Harry brightened. "No, but he might be now."  
  
He was still unconscious though when they neared his bed. Madam Pomfrey was tutting over him. She looked them over suspiciously as if she expected something to be wrong with one of them.  
  
"I have to go down to the greenhouses and get some goldenrod root from Professor Sprout. Here, can you do this while I'm there?" She held out a wet cloth that she had been using to swab away from the filth that covered Sirius.  
  
"Why don't you use a spell?" Ron asked in surprise.  
  
"Human touch is far more comforting," Madam Pomfrey told him.  
  
When neither boy moved to take the rag Hermione rolled her eyes and accepted it. "Boys," she muttered and swept regally past them to Sirius' bedside.  
  
She submerged the cloth in a bowl of water and squeezed it gently, counting the drops of water as they fell back into the bowl. Harry and Ron came to stand on the other side of the bed. Ron was telling Harry about the spell that Dumbledore had used to blow open the door as Hermione placed the cloth on the Sirius' forehead and began to carefully rub away at the dirt.  
  
The room was dark, the only light was from a flickering a candle that Madame Pomfrey had left at Sirius' bedside table. Satisfied that she had gotten as much dirt from Sirius' forehead that she could get without dunking him in the lake and scrubbing him vigorously with one of those copper pads that her mother used when doing the dishes, Hermione started to withdraw her hand but she found that it had suddenly been captured. Sirius was awake.  
  
He held her wrist tightly but not painfully. His dark eyes were staring at her in complete shock. He obviously didn't remember being awakened in the cave outside of Hogsmeade.  
  
"Hi Sirius," Hermione said shyly and smiled at him.  
  
Ron and Harry, who had been sitting at the foot of the bed talking in quick whispers got to their feet and moved closer to the bed. Sirius looked at them and then back to Hermione.  
  
"Hello Hermione."  
  
_________________________________________________________ **Please Read and Review! 


	5. Missing Ron and Harry

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Author Notes: Thanks again to Vegeta and Lady Nazgul my beta readers! I also want to mention that Microsoft Works does not like to upload properly for me so when there obvious spacing issues it is Bill Gates fault!  
  
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Hermione justified hiding in her room by telling herself that she couldn't possibly get any work done with Sirius glaring at her. She explained over and over again to herself that the only reason she was staying ensconced away was to help speed her work, but after a day and half her rations ran out. The single box of crackers that had been tucked under her bed had been a godsend but now she was left with a dry wrinkle in her throat and a bed covered in crumbs. Hermione couldn't lie to herself anymore. She could work perfectly well with a distraction, even a large, darkly brooding one. What Hermione couldn't work with was a lack of sustenance, so on the fourth day since Harry and Ron's funeral, Hermione silently opened her bedroom door and crept out into the living room.  
  
It was empty. She knew that Sirius hadn't left, Hermione had heard him prowling the flat during all hours of the night. He seemed unable to stay still for any length of time. On more than one occasion his footsteps had echoed throughout the flat as he determinedly made his way to her room. He would always stop though, his shadow slipping under the crack below her door, and after several minutes it would drift away again. Sirius never came into her room.  
  
There was a pile of blankets on the sofa, proof that Sirius had refused the thought of using one of the other rooms. Hermione crossed to these blankets without making a sound. A year of living in this flat had taught Hermione every creak and groan that it possessed and as second nature she now skirted these with her bare-foot feet. She reached out a slender hand touching the dark cloth with her fingers; it was still warm. Puzzled, Hermione turned away.  
  
She found him in the kitchen. His back was to one counter and his shoulders hunched forward, his too long hair hiding his eyes. He stood so still that Hermione was reminded of a victim of petrifaction. She stayed where she was, one hand wrapped around the arched wall of the kitchen entrance way. His hands were clenched but as she watched they relaxed slightly and his head rose up the faintest of smiles smoothing lines of pain in his face.  
  
"Sirius?" Her voice, spoken into such a void of silence, surprised even her.  
  
He stiffened abruptly, turning his head to look at her, though he made no move to approach. His dark eyes were so black they reminded Hermione of polished coal and as often happened when Sirius fixed her with such a stare she felt a swirl of nerves in her stomach.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" she asked, feeling a completely uncontrollable desire to know what had caused him to smile.  
  
Sirius studied her closely for almost a minute. Hermione knew what he was seeing; a pale girl that was too thin. Ron and Harry were always telling her so. His eyes traced her up and down, lingering on her bare feet and the magenta Weasley sweater that Ron had gotten for Christmas last year. She had found it under her bed along with the crackers. He had left it in there weeks ago, probably intentionally since he was desperate for any reason to get rid of it. It still smelled like him. Hermione had snuggled into it feeling a little better about everything.  
  
"I was thinking," Sirius spoke to her as if she hadn't locked herself away from him for almost two days, "of the Canons game Harry and Ron smuggled me to last fall." A nostalgic smile crossed his face again.  
  
Hermione nodded and finally entered the kitchen. She asked for no more explanation as she opened the pantry door and searched for something to eat.  
  
"Why didn't you go?" Sirius asked suddenly as if he had never wondered about it before.  
  
Her hands found an old tin of treacle fudge and she pulled it forth. Hermione turned, her eyes immediately being caught by Sirius' who was still waiting for an answer.  
  
"You didn't want me to go." Her voice was quiet and bereft of emotion. If Harry and Ron had been there she would have sworn up and down that her not going to that Quidditch match had nothing to do with Sirius, but they weren't there, and she wasn't going to lie anymore than she already had to.  
  
Sirius' eyes widened. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
Hermione was now fighting with the coffee pot. She had never quite been able to make it work right. Ron, who had little knowledge of Muggle appliances despite being Arthur Weasley's son, had managed to coax perfect cups of the dark liquid out of it every morning, but Hermione had spent many hours cursing it's very existent.  
  
Sirius stepped forward, removed the bag of grounds from her hand, and began to fill the paper filter. He kept looking at her, expecting an answer to his question although Hermione had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of getting into an argument with her over it. He would deny it of course, he would say that of course he had wanted her to go, why wouldn't he? It wouldn't change the fact that when he had arrived that afternoon so many months ago he had been visibly crestfallen when Hermione had come out of her room wearing the Canons pin attached to the lapel of her robe. He had studied the door as if contemplating escape. Harry had worked so hard to convince Sirius to come with him, Hermione would be damned if he was going to back out of it because of her. Thinking fast, she told them that she had made a dinner date with Ginny and just couldn't go to the game.  
  
The coffee machine seemed just as enamored with Sirius as it was with Ron. Deep russet liquid began to drip into the glass pot. Hermione closed her eyes and massaged her temple with her fingers. Now that she had left the seclusion of her room she was beginning to wish she had showered before emerging. Their flat had the added amenity of having two baths, one which the boys had shared, and the other in her room. Hermione decided that as soon as she was able to drink something hot and loaded with caffeine she would be visiting it.  
  
She watched as the pot filled, her fingers tapping along the edge of the counter as she waited with a touch of impatience. It was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.  
  
"I wanted you to come," Sirius said in a voice that wasn't quite persuasive.  
  
"My mistake," Hermione replied without meeting his eyes.  
  
She broke off a piece of the fudge and let it melt on her tongue. It was too sweet and wasn't generally something she would have eaten by choice, but food was running low in the flat. Without Harry and Ron her mind rarely considered food.  
  
The pot was finally full. Hermione filled a mug, the one that had shattered the day before yesterday, and started to leave the kitchen.  
  
"Hermione," Sirius said following after her as she headed back towards her room.  
  
Hermione pointedly ignored him. She reached for the knob and opened it. Sirius' hand hit the door far above her head, snapping it closed.  
  
"Hermione," his voice was commanding yet with a hint of desperation, "it's not good for you to lock yourself away like that."  
  
"I wasn't intending on locking myself away," she replied without looking at him. She found that it was far easier to talk to Sirius if she didn't meet his eyes. "I only wanted to go get cleaned up, if that's all right."  
  
His hand relaxed and slipped away from the door. Hermione turned the handle again, and then slipped away from him, closing the door soundlessly behind her.  
  
***  
  
Hermione had the unfortunate habit of taking showers that were too long and far too hot. She would always reappear in the living room as brightly colored as a phoenix at its peak. One of her marathon showers was usually followed by Ron's complaints that she had once again used all of the hot water for the entire building. As Harry would always point out, one simple little charm could warm the water if Ron was so cold, but this would spoil Ron's fun. There was very little that Ron could fault Hermione for and it had become quite the tradition for him to harp on about her long showers, but Hermione wouldn't be having one of these arguments today. She doubted that Sirius would care or even notice that she had used all the hot water.  
  
Hermione slipped back into the pair of old jeans that she had been wearing and Ron's sweater. It fell almost to her knees, the sleeves went several inches past her fingertips. But who was there to impress anyway? Her hair was still wet. Though she could have dried it instantly with a charm, Hermione liked it best immediately after a wash. The weight of the water pulled the curls straight and the wetness slicked the bushiness down. This was the hair she had always wanted, the hair that she had stared at in the mirror as she grew up, willing it to stay that way. It never had of course.  
  
After leaving her small bathroom she surveyed her bedroom. It was so very tempting. It was comfortable. It was safe. It would be completely childish for her to spend any more time in it than was necessary. Hermione groaned and walked back out into the living room. Sirius was waiting for her.  
  
He was sitting on the far sofa that faced her door, his elbows resting on his knees, his callused fingers knitted together in contemplation. Sirius watched her as she crossed the room to nearest library shelf. So far she had spent her time making a rough outline of what she needed to accomplish, now she had to get the sources. Her library was already fairly extensive but she would definitely have to make a trip to Diagon Alley in a day or too. Obscuras Books might even have what she had ordered by now although Hermione didn't think she was up to speaking with Linus Leoquill yet. It was hard to see anyone that knew the trio.  
  
She started pulling books off the shelves. Someone who didn't know better would have thought she had gone mad and was just pulling them at random, but Sirius knew better. Hermione's stack of books had grown so high that it teetered as she reached for just one more book.  
  
"Let me help you," Sirius took the stack of books away from her. Setting them on the nearby table he read the title of the first one aloud. "Madame Zora's Magical Guide to Skin Care?" He turned incredulous eyes to Hermione.  
  
She had just retrieved her desired book, Most Potente Potions, and replied, "Sometimes the hardest questions have the simplest answers."  
  
"What is Madame Zora going to help you with then Hermione?" Sirius sounded amused. "Some unpleasant rash somewhere?" Sirius chuckled.  
  
For a moment Hermione was amused, a smile, the first one in days broke across her face, but then years of being afraid of what Sirius might say to her scared it away.  
  
"Actually it has a very good section on banishing." Hermione pulled the chair out from the table and settled herself in it. "Even if they are talking about banishing blemishes, I think some of the theories could be manipulated to serve a higher purpose."  
  
"What type of purpose?" Sirius was cautious but interested.  
  
Hermione had explained it all to Ron and Harry before so now she felt no qualms about sharing it with Sirius. "We have to destroy Voldemort's soul." Her simple answer drew a reaction from Sirius that she hadn't anticipated.  
  
He grasped her shoulder tightly. "What are you saying?"  
  
"Voldemort is still out there," Hermione tried to wrench her arm away but he held it very firmly.  
  
"Hermione, no one expects you to continue on as an Auror now, you've done more than enough!"  
  
His grip tightened. Hermione writhed in his grasp a whimper of pain finally drawing his attention to the death-like grip that he had on her. Horrified he let go and stepped back.  
  
Hermione scowled at him as she rubbed the tender part of her arm but he looked so upset that her fierce gaze softened. "Just because Harry and Ron are gone doesn't mean that there is nothing left for me to do."  
  
But Sirius continued to back away from her. He didn't stop until he reached the sofa and collapsed back into it. He buried his head in his hands. Hermione couldn't bear to see him like that; she rose from her chair and went to him. She knelt on the ground before him and cautiously touched his hand with one of her own.  
  
"It's all right Sirius, you didn't hurt me." She tried to sound soothing.  
  
He raised his head to look at her when she touched him. His eyes were so wild. She wondered if they had always been like that. She couldn't remember them being so dark when she was younger.  
  
"It isn't safe Hermione, haven't you learned that?"  
  
She tightened her hands on his. "It has never been safe. We all knew that. We didn't enter into this blindly."  
  
"They're dead Hermione," Sirius leaned forward, and took her hands in his, "and I cannot protect you if you won't let me."  
  
Hermione stayed where she was completely disbelieving. "Protect me?" she asked.  
  
"You have to tell me what happened," Sirius continued quickly sensing danger. "It's going to come out eventually. If you don't tell me then I can't protect you. Please Hermione."  
  
She pulled her hands out of his, got to her feet, and said, "You've never been concerned with my well-being Sirius, don't start now. Harry isn't around anymore, you don't need to tolerate me for his sake." She ended bitterly.  
  
Hermione turned back to the desk. Sirius was back on his feet immediately after her words. He grasped her arm and swung her around. Her hands went up to keep herself from colliding with his chest.  
  
"Tolerate you?" His face was ashen. "You think that is what I've been doing?"  
  
"Not very well, I'll admit it."  
  
She was uncomfortably close to him, her hands against his chest, his hand still gripping her arm. Hermione wished fervently that she had never left her room that morning.  
  
"Hermione," he began softly, his voice holding an emotion that Hermione didn't readily identify, one that she didn't want to hear.  
  
"Let me go Sirius, I have work to do."  
  
As if admitting defeat in a battle, Sirius released her arm. "I don't want to fight with you anymore," he said finally.  
  
Hermione allowed her eyes to meet with his. He was being honest, and she was so tired of fighting. There was so much she had to do. She would never finish if every few minutes she were about to come to blows with Harry's godfather.  
  
"All right, no more fighting, but you need to let me do this. Won't you please?"  
  
Sirius nodded. Hermione walked back to the table and sat down. She spared one more glance in his direction before she began the long process that was before her.  
__________________________________________________________ **There will hopefully be an update in a couple of weeks. Please Read & Review! 


	6. Time with Sirius

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author Notes: Okay, I have about six more chapters of this fic already written. That is the good news. The bad news is that even with these six chapters, I'm not finished with the story. But wait.there is even worse news. I have, unfortunately, fallen quite in love with an anime known as Inuyasha (Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, 12:30, Monday through Thursday, check it out!). What this means is that all I think about is Inuyasha and I have been unable to write anything for a month now. So the fate of this fic is looking a bit murky at the moment. I'm going to try really, really hard to finish it, but with the next book coming out in June. There just isn't much time.  
  
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Hogwarts: End of Sixth Year  
  
Hermione sat in the library waiting. Her books were stacked neatly in front of her and a mountain of parchment lay uncurled on the table. She glanced at her watch, frowning. He was late. It seemed that one could never count on punctuality from a Slytherin.  
  
She had been flattered at first when Professor Ansuz asked if she would be interested in tutoring. However, when she found out that the individual who was needing the most help in her sixth year Ancient Runes class was Blaise Zambini, she was expectably skeptical about the idea. He wasn't known for hanging out with Malfoy's crowd but he was a Slytherin after all. Hermione didn't have to help him pass the class but she had been loath to disappoint her teacher. So now she waited.  
  
"Sorry," a voice came from behind her.  
  
Hermione started and turned to look at Blaise. His jet hair hung low over his pale forehead. She wondered briefly if all the Slytherins were pale due to living deep in the bowels of the school. Did natural light ever creep into their dungeon quarters?  
  
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you either." He was soft-spoken and his tone really seemed to hold no outward animosity.  
  
"It is all right. I haven't been here long." This wasn't entirely true, she had come an extra hour early in order to prepare her notes and ready her mind for what she figured was going to be a rather nasty Slytherin encounter.  
  
Blaise sat down across from her and pulled out his own set of parchments. He seemed nervous. Hermione felt bolstered by this.  
  
It was with much more ease that Hermione leaned forward and asked, "So what are you having trouble with?"  
  
Blaise groaned "everything. I hate Ancient Runes."  
  
Hermione sat back, surprised, "well why do you take this class if don't like it?"  
  
Hermione had been taking Ancient Runes since her third year with the Slytherins and a few other Gryffindors. The class was smaller than most since it wasn't required. Blaise had always been there.  
  
He frowned as if not really wanting to discuss it, "my father has always wanted me to take it, some sort of family tradition. Not that I should have to explain any of that to you."  
  
"I didn't mean to pry," Hermione replied sniffily. They scowled briefly at one another before Hermione spoke again, "Okay well we can work on catching you up later, I think we should probably focus on the more important concern, the test on Thursday. Where do you think you will have the most trouble, the Germanic Runes or the Ogham Runes?"  
  
Blaise let his head sink into his hands and muttered, "This is hopeless."  
  
"No it isn't." Hermione said soothingly as she opened her book, "Here, we'll start from the beginning of the chapter."  
It was quite some time later and several crumpled sheets of parchment when Hermione stopped in mid-sentence and turned to look over her shoulder. Both Harry and Ron had entered the library and were walking towards her. Hermione glanced at her watch; they had been at it for almost two hours.  
  
"I think that is more than enough for today, don't you?" She asked Blaise quickly as Harry and Ron neared them.  
  
"I guess, but we never even got to runic divination." He had been looking more and more confident as they worked but now a spark of panic appeared in his eyes.  
  
"Well we could meet again before the test," Hermione said half to herself as she tried to think up a good time.  
  
"Tomorrow? After dinner?" He supplied quickly.  
  
Hermione nodded, "that should be fine."  
  
"Hermione," Harry and Ron reached them.  
  
"Hermione," Harry repeated, "You were supposed to meet us fifteen minutes ago.  
  
Blaise, Ron, and Harry eyed each other suspiciously as Hermione packed her bag.  
  
"We were working," Hermione's voice was firm and it reassured any concerns that Harry or Ron may have had.  
  
She stood and pulled her bag onto her shoulder and smiled slightly at Blaise. He stood up as well.  
  
"Thanks Gra.Hermione," He corrected with a smile of his own.  
  
"You're welcome Blaise," Hermione replied over her shoulder as she followed Ron and Harry from the library.  
  
As soon as the doors were closed Ron turned to her, "you two were looking rather chummy."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed past him without a word.  
  
"All I'm saying," Ron called as he quickened his step to catch up to her, "is that we all know that you have a sweet spot for Slytherins."  
  
Harry tried unsuccessfully to cover up his laugh as Hermione stopped short and rounded on Ron.  
  
"I have a what for Slytherins?"  
  
"You know, you fancy them sometimes, I just don't think it's a very smart match is all." Ron stepped backwards from the girl as she was beginning to look quite frightening.  
  
"I do not fancy them!" Hermione's voice was sharp and several people turned to look at them.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said soothing, "Ron is just referring to Malfoy."  
  
Hermione let out a frustrated groan and turned away from them continuing down the hall all the while saying back over her shoulder, "had I known that you two were never going to let me live that down then I never would have come up with that spell in the first place!"  
  
She didn't see the mischievous grins that Harry and Ron exchanged at this and that was probably for the best for Hermione was feeling quite murderous at this point.  
  
They followed her up two flights of stairs and into the once forbidden third floor corridor. It was still not a place that was highly trafficked. The House Elves seemed to have a difficult time fighting back the dust motes that threatened to creep from their darkened corners. The fourth hall off of this unwelcoming corridor led to the enchanted room that Sirius Black had been living in for the three months since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had helped him escape the Aurors in Hogsmeade.  
  
"Did he say where he was going this time?" Hermione asked Harry as they stepped through an invisible arch way and into the fourth hall.  
  
"No, he was in a rush. But Dumbledore told me that he should be back tonight." Harry replied as he lit his wand.  
  
"Well it can't be anything very important if it's only going to take him two days to do it in." Ron cursed loudly in the silent hall as he knocked into a suit of armor. "Why can't they leave any bloody torches lit in here?"  
  
Hermione turned and help him detangle himself, "well no one is supposed to be using this hall you know."  
  
"None of the staff knows that Sirius is here besides Madame Pomfrey," Harry added.  
  
They continued on, the way lit only by the light from their wands. A dour looking soldier, who looked them up and down suspiciously after they had given the password before letting them through, guarded the entrance to the room.  
  
The room itself was large and comfortable. A large sofa and several plush chairs surrounded a fireplace that had already been lit. The house- elves had already supplied a meal to the room and the table was covered in plates.  
  
"Does Sirius really need to eat this much?" Ron asked as he studied the various plates of food.  
  
Harry retorted defensively, "he doesn't get enough to eat when he's on the run you know that! He needs to eat as much as he can when he has the chance."  
  
"Ron is right though," Hermione cut in quickly, "this is more food than even Sirius can eat, I think this meal is supposed to be meant for two people."  
  
"Observant as always, Hermione." A voice that didn't belong to Sirius said.  
  
The three spun quickly to face the voice and stared in shock without speaking for a moment or two.  
  
Hermione was the first to find her voice, "Professor Lupin?"  
  
Their old Professor whom they hadn't seen since their third year stood in the doorway a jovial smile on his thin face. He walked into the room followed immediately by Sirius.  
  
"Isn't is almost time for you three to be in bed?" Sirius asked them gruffly as he shut the door behind him.  
  
His appearance was far altered from when they had found him in Hogsmeade. His wounds had been healed and he had finally been able to eat his fill. His black hair was untangled; his dark eyes were clear and bright. He was once again the handsome man in Harry's photo album.  
  
Professor Lupin was a different matter though. He looked far more tired and gray than he had only a few short years ago.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.  
  
Sirius chuckled mirthlessly at Harry's question as he approached the table of food and ravenously examined each dish. "Go ahead Remus, tell them why you had to flee your home in the middle of the night."  
  
Professor Lupin sighed and sat down on the couch, he watched Sirius tearing into a chicken but despite his thinness he seemed uninterested in the food.  
  
"Haven't you been reading the papers?" He asked them.  
  
Ron and Harry both turned expectantly to Hermione. She frowned and ran back through the headlines of that day's paper.  
  
"You don't mean." She looked horrified, "but surely not you Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Most especially me I'm afraid." Their old Professor looked exhausted.  
  
"Would someone mind explaining?" Ron sounded annoyed.  
  
"Fudge has been making comments recently that non-humans should be registered with the Ministry so that any that pose a clear and present threat can be imprisoned before they join with Voldemort."  
  
Harry asked quickly, "non-humans?"  
  
Professor Lupin began counting on his fingers, "vampires, hags, centaurs, giants."  
  
"Werewolves," Sirius added sharply.  
  
Professor Lupin was looking terribly crest-fallen. "Werewolves," he agreed sadly.  
  
"What's wrong with that?" Ron asked. "We all know that you're not a threat."  
  
"On the contrary Ron," Sirius had left the table and was pacing back and forth behind the couch, "due to the rumors that Remus may have helped me escape the dementors three years he is considered to be a highly probable risk. And isn't it safer to throw us all into Azkaban first and ask questions later? It has worked so well for the Ministry in the past."  
  
Hermione watched him stalk across the room and then back again. He reminded her of a caged animal, so angry and wound up expecting an attack.  
  
"That's awful," she whispered.  
  
Sirius stopped his pacing and looked at Hermione. It was a look she didn't understand. But when he spoke again his tone was far softer.  
  
"That's why Dumbledore sent me out yesterday. He received word that they were planning on registering Remus in the next few days." There was a special emphasis on the word registering that no one missed.  
  
Sirius settled on the couch next to Professor Lupin and no one spoke for several minutes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had known that Professor Dumbledore had been sending Sirius off from the school. What his missions were they didn't always know. Most of the time he carried messages, every once in a while he went out to investigate a supposed Death Eater hot spot, and sometimes he would just be gone from his rooms without a word to any of them. He had never before spent so much time in one place having always felt that he needed to constantly move to constantly track Pettigrew. But he seemed content to abandon his hunt for Peter in order to help the older wizard.  
  
They weren't sure, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione all agreed that the school was probably being watched now. And it didn't seem to matter anymore if it was the Ministry or Voldemort. It was hard to tell now who was more of a threat. It was true that Voldemort still planned to kill them all and over throw the Ministry, but Fudge was so set in his adamant denial of this most obvious fact that he hindered Dumbledore in a way that none of them had expected. It seemed that Hogwarts was becoming more of a haven from the Ministry rather than from Voldemort.  
  
"How long will you stay here?" Harry asked the Professor.  
  
"Indefinitely, until circumstances change or Fudge gets kicked out." Professor Lupin replied and he looked meaningfully at Sirius.  
  
Sirius understood the look and got back to his feet, "and now it really is time for you to get back to your rooms. Remus and I have some talking to do before he gets settled in."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to argue but closed it without a sound. It was pointless to argue with Sirius. He and the Headmaster still believed that there were some things that they were too young for and there seemed to be nothing Harry, Ron, or Hermione could say to convince them otherwise.  
  
They headed to the door but Hermione turned back to Lupin and spoke for the three of them. "We're glad to see you again Professor."  
  
The older man smiled warmly, taking years off his visage, "and I you."  
  
Sirius got suddenly to his feet. "Shall I walk you back? It is very dark in this part of the school." His eyes seemed to linger momentarily on Hermione's before passing by.  
  
Harry grinned at his Godfather, "I think we can find our way through the dark pretty well Sirius."  
  
Even Lupin chuckled at this. "If only you knew the number times these three wandered the halls after hours in their third year." Lupin added at Harry's dumbstruck look, "you may be good Harry, but I was a Marauder after all."  
  
~*~*~*~  
It was half past three. Hermione scowled at the watch on her wrist. Harry and Ron had been in detention all morning. She'd had no qualms about telling them that they deserved an all day detention for purposely switching Crabbe's Newt spine for Mako cartilage. They should have known that the addition of shark bits to the potion would result in a very messy explosion. But without them she was beginning to get quite bored.  
  
She could always search out Ginny but the last time Hermione had seen the younger girl she had been with a few friends that Hermione didn't know. Hermione hated to intrude. Neville was trying to catch her eye from across the common room but Hermione knew that was due mostly to his pile unfinished homework.  
  
That reminded Hermione of something. She slid off the chair and picked up her backpack. She had wanted to go see Professor Lupin and ask him a few questions about Erklings. She was writing an essay on them for Defense Against the Dark Arts and wanted an expert opinion. Hermione could always ask Professor Flaminius, the new Defense teacher, but the man was little more than a blubbering idiot. It seemed that Professor Dumbledore had almost given up any real hope of finding a decent teacher for the class.  
  
She hadn't seen Professor Lupin or Sirius since the Professor had arrived four days ago. Harry and Ron had gone to visit them yesterday but Hermione had declined due to the amount of homework that she had. But now seemed as a good time as any to visit. Hermione didn't think they would mind. When Sirius wasn't being sent off the grounds on odd jobs for the Headmaster there was very little to occupy his time, Hermione imagined it would be the same for Professor Lupin as well.  
  
The Saturday afternoon was warm, the windows throughout the school had been opened to the outside world, and a breeze ruffled her curly hair as she headed up the stairs. The bland rains seemed to have stopped and summer would be here soon. The windows hadn't been opened on the third floor corridor though. And the hall that led to Sirius' rooms was just as dark as it always was. It seemed that very little light could squeeze past the layers of dust on the thin windows.  
  
Hermione gave the password, 'Snape is a dirty wanker', and then knocked on the door that appeared as the portrait swung forward. She could hear something moving behind and then the door swung quickly open. Sirius stared down at her in something akin to shock.  
  
"Good afternoon Sirius," Hermione said, the smile she had been wearing faded slightly as Sirius stared at her.  
  
"Hermione," he looked past her, "where are Ron and Harry?"  
  
She fought hard to keep her smile in place; this wasn't exactly the welcome she had imagined. "They're serving detention."  
  
"You came by yourself?" He was looking quite intently at her.  
  
"I.yes." Hermione's voice rose shrilly as she struggled to fight her embarrassment. It was silly of her to think that she could just come down here without Harry. "I wanted to speak to Professor Lupin, if he wasn't busy."  
  
Understanding flickered in his dark eyes and he relaxed, "Of course, Remus. His quarters are right across the hall." He motioned over Hermione shoulder.  
  
She turned and sure enough another portrait picturing a sour looking old hag standing next to a cauldron was resting on the wall where it hadn't before.  
  
"The password is 'Red Caps'."  
  
"Oh," Hermione murmured and stepped back from Sirius, "thank you."  
  
Sirius seemed indecisive about something for a moment before he spoke again, "I'm afraid that he isn't there though. He's having tea with Headmaster Dumbledore; they had things to discuss." Sirius added on cryptically.  
  
"Oh," Hermione repeated. She must have seemed crestfallen for Sirius opened his door.  
  
"Do you play chess Hermione?"  
  
"Surely Ron and Harry have told you how terrible I am at it." She didn't like being teased.  
  
"True, they have mentioned that you aren't very good." Sirius smiled suddenly and Hermione knew he must have been quite popular when he was at Hogwarts. "You know," He said, "I was never a very good chess player either until I learned how to be sneaky."  
  
"Sneaky?"  
  
"Chess is a game of many things," Sirius gestured her into the room, "it is a game of wit and skill. But it is still a game and there is more than one way to win a game."  
  
"Are you suggesting cheating?"  
  
Sirius chuckled at her horrified expression. "Cheating is one way, but no, I wasn't suggesting it. I was thinking more along the lines of subterfuge. Make them think you are going to go one way but then go another."  
  
"I'm not very good at that type of thing," Hermione insisted nervously.  
  
"Nonsense, you're capable of doing anything that you set your mind to. Now sit down." Sirius had already seated himself at the chessboard.  
  
He began putting the pieces on their designated squares while Hermione thought about her options. She wasn't entirely sure she liked the idea of being taught subterfuge chess by Sirius but she definitely didn't want to go back to the common room and explain once again to Neville the uses of mink teeth. She bit her lip indecisively and then quickly, before she could change her mind, slid into a high-backed chair across from him.  
  
"I'm really not very good at all," Hermione told him again.  
  
"I have absolute faith in you Hermione." Sirius told her smiling.  
  
Hermione returned the smile then looked away abruptly as a slight blush colored her cheeks.  
~*~*~*~  
"The last game is against Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked as they walked towards the Quidditch pitch.  
  
"Yes," Ron dropped his broom and stopped to skip a rock across the still surface of the lake.  
  
"I really don't think it will be a problem." Harry said as he followed suit.  
  
"Not now that you've gotten over that whole Cho thing." Ron agreed.  
  
Harry sent him an annoyed glare but made no comment. Hermione sat on a fallen tree and watched them as they became more competitive about the skipping. She had pulled back her dark hair from her face that morning but the crazy tendrils had a mind of their own and locks of bushy hair grazed the curves of her face. She pulled out the simple barrette and leaned backwards shaking out the tangled mess and trying valiantly to rein it back in.  
  
"Snuffles!" Harry called happily.  
  
Hermione was so startled she dropped the band. "Drat," She muttered and scrambled over the log in order to retrieve it. This served a dual purpose as it allowed time for her coloring to return to normal since she had gone a little pink at the mention of Harry's godfather.  
  
She had been rather embarrassed when she thought back to her visit the other day. It seemed to take only a moment or two of playing for Hermione to get comfortable being alone with him and then she had started. Ron always said that Hermione talked too much when she got going and she did. She had prattled on and on for what seemed like hours. Hermione had told him about her time at Hogwarts and her plans for when she graduated. She had told him about her parents and what it had been like growing up in the muggle world when you knew, just knew, that somehow you were different. And he had smiled and listened to all of it. Hermione was mortified.  
  
"Hermione?" Ron leaned over the log, "what are you doing?"  
  
Hermione sheepishly grabbed her barrette off the ground and stood, "I dropped this."  
  
Harry was standing at the water's edge with Sirius, both Harry and the great dog were watching her interestedly. Sirius went so far as to give a short bark of greeting.  
  
"Hi Snuffles," Hermione returned as she struggled with her hair.  
  
Ron sniggered at the unsuccessful attempts. Hermione scowled at him and he immediately stopped. But Hermione could swear he mouthed something to Sirius and Harry as she turned her back. After another moment of war Hermione threw up the white flag, pushed her band deep into her pocket, and tucked her hair back behind her ears. She highly doubted that she had ever looked worse.  
  
"Practice will be starting soon," Harry told Sirius, "we were headed that way."  
  
"Want to come?" Ron asked grinning, "those new beaters of ours are something to watch, no doubt."  
  
Hermione silently agreed. There had been some question over Fred and George's replacements this year. But the Weasley twins had hand picked their heirs and it showed. Third year Myra Lynch and her cousin Hamish, a second year, may have been a bit on the small side but what they lacked in size they made up for with such sheer insanity that the Weasley twins had been besides themselves when they had discovered them. There was also a question as to whether or not there might already be some Quidditch greatness in the Lynch family, as one could never get a straight answer from Myra or Hamish about whether their uncle Aiden was indeed Ireland's Seeker Aiden Lynch.  
  
The new chasers were good as well. But Hermione could never keep track of their names. Harry followed in Wood's footsteps and they were all female. He had been terribly embarrassed last year when Katie Bell had made such a show of passing her captainship on to him but Hermione knew he had been pleased. He took his job very seriously.  
  
But best of all, at least in Hermione's mind, was Ron becoming the keeper the year before. He had been so ecstatic that they didn't even bicker for a month. She hadn't been surprised by this though, Ron and Harry had practiced together in the backyard of the Burrow the entire summer after fourth year.  
  
"You can sit with Hermione so that it doesn't look to strange." Harry was speaking and Hermione realized that she hadn't been paying much attention.  
  
"We've told anyone that asks that you belong to the Headmaster," Ron added, "but it would still seem odd if you were always walking around by yourself."  
  
They continued walking, Hermione a pace behind the others, her hands deep in the pockets of her robe. She was nervous and she didn't know why. It felt like a dizzy wind was flitting about inside of her and Hermione would have really liked nothing better than to sit alone and ponder it but she knew it would look suspicious. And Harry and Ron seemed to have become more observant of her mood swings recently. Hermione chalked it up to their developing maturity but it still struck her as odd.  
  
Ron took flight the moment they reached the field. Hermione felt the familiar flutter of nerves that she had every time her friends played Quidditch. Harry was about to follow but he stopped and turned back to her.  
  
"We'll be fine," he told her grinning.  
  
"I know that." Hermione snapped playfully back at him. "Go on, they're waiting for you."  
  
Harry didn't need any more prodding; he was in the air before she could even finish her sentence. Hermione watched him speed up to cross the pitch.  
  
"Well we had better go up, we won't see anything from down here." Hermione smiled quickly at Sirius.  
  
Once they reached the highest seats Hermione settled herself down. It was completely deserted here. The only people were the busy players on their brooms. A balmy breeze was blowing up here, diverting some of the wretched dampness that had plagued her around the edge of the lake. Hermione leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and let the sun soak in.  
  
But she wasn't alone. And Sirius vaulted easily into the chair next to her. His silent presence weighed heavily on her mind and Hermione opened her eyes. He didn't seem to be paying her any attention though his eyes were focused on the two beaters who were chucking the bludgers back and forth between themselves. At one point Hamish missed his catch and the bludger swung around and hit him in the side.  
  
"Idiots," She hissed once the player in question recovered and started laughing as if getting hit by a bludger was a rather pleasurable experience.  
  
"You know, I like flying, I really do." Hermione was almost surprised that she had started talking, "Harry and Ron assume that since I don't ever want to play Quidditch that I don't like to fly. But it's not true."  
  
Sirius was watching her intently, his eyes urging her onward with her explanation.  
  
"I just don't understand why they want to play a game where it's so easy to get hurt. Ron's always complaining that his nose is too big, well what does he think is going to happen when it gets broken by a quaffle?"  
  
Hermione couldn't tell for sure but she thought that if Sirius weren't a dog he would be laughing now. She smiled warmly, feeling not nearly so self-conscious.  
  
"Did you play Quidditch when you were at school?" Hermione asked.  
  
Sirius shook his head.  
  
"You probably didn't want to risk your good looks." Hermione bit her tongue a moment to late. Had she actually really just said that? She risked a glance at Sirius but he was just shaking in what she knew without a doubt was doggie laughter.  
  
There was a call from above and Hermione looked up to see that Ron had called for a huddle down by the goal. But Harry wasn't paying attention; he had just gone after the practice Snitch. The rest of them team hadn't noticed from where they were near the end of the pitch. Harry didn't care though, he had seen the Snitch and that was where his focus lay. He swerved downward after it, looping back up as it shot suddenly heavenward. The chaotic movements of the Gryffindor Seeker and the Snitch drew the attention of the Bludgers. The balls had gone still in the air when the huddle had formed but they whizzed back to life and headed for Harry.  
  
Hermione could see the oncoming collision like a bad train wreck. Harry was shooting almost vertically upward while the Bludgers zoomed after him. Without realizing Hermione's fingers curled around a swatch of black fur as she leaned closer to Sirius. She bit her lip and watched horrified as the Snitch suddenly turned again, this time dropping like a bomb downward. Harry's broom dipped after it so quickly that it seemed like he had foreseen it. A sense of exhilaration that Hermione rarely felt outside the library began to invade her senses. The Bludgers would meet him, there seemed to be no way to avoid, he had to see them now but couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, not with the blood pounding. Hermione felt faint, her hand tightened around the dog's fur but Sirius seemed to take no notice of her, for he too, was watching Harry.  
  
The Bludgers were rising up to meet Harry as he spun downward. Faster and faster, closer they came; surely Harry must see them now. Hermione found that she couldn't take it anymore and she spun into Sirius, both of her hands now clenched deeply into his fur. She pushed her face as far into him as she could trying to block out the sensations of panic and excitement that she was feeling. This wasn't right. She knew it wasn't right. A second ticked by then another and the exhilaration faded. Hermione took a steadying breath but didn't pull away.  
  
"Hermione, you can look now, Harry's okay." Sirius' voice was soothing.  
  
Hermione turned her head slightly against his robes in order to let one eye observe the sky. It was true; Harry was sitting happily unscathed on his broom. The Snitch was in one hand; the Bludgers were once again being thrown about by their Beaters. Hermione let out a deep sigh of relief, her eyes closed, and she sagged back against Sirius. She seemed to be resting in the crook of his arm and one of her hands still had a grasp on his cloak.  
  
"Wait a minute," a voice in her head echoed.  
  
Her eyes shot open and Sirius' immediately met them. It took her a moment to find her voice but when she did it was filled with as much panic as she had felt only moments before over Harry.  
  
"Sirius," she hissed as if expecting eavesdroppers, "what are you doing!"  
  
His eyes had been sparkling with an amused light but this faded quickly at her tone. "You were upset."  
  
"And I'm not now?" Hermione snapped, "Are you crazy? Someone will see you. Don't you know how unsafe it is?"  
  
"Of course I know how unsafe it is," Sirius said coldly, "I'm more aware of it than you are, I certainly don't need lecturing from a child."  
  
Stung, Hermione got to her feet, "go ahead then if you know what you're doing. Forget how much we've all sacrificed to keep you safe. Forget how many times we children saved you." And with that she turned and left the stands feeling quite sick to her stomach.  
~*~*~*~  
Evening light streamed through the high windows of the library. Hermione stretched her hands back and wiggled her toes as best she could while wearing shoes. She had been holed up in the library for hours now. Exams were only a month away and she was desperately unprepared. This wasn't really true as Hermione already knew most of her textbooks front to back. Helping Blaise had greatly cut back on her own study time. She didn't regret helping him, Hermione had always liked helping others with class work, and she enjoyed being useful.  
  
She looked at her watch, supper would be long over by now, and hopefully Ron and Harry had remembered to get her a sandwich like she had asked.  
  
The library was nearly deserted. Hermione hadn't spoken with anyone in at least an hour. Nothing moved the still air and there was no sound other than the faint rustle of pages being turned. So when Hermione looked up and found Sirius, in his great furry form, sitting across the table from her, she had to stifle a cry of surprise.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Hermione snapped at him.  
  
She hadn't seen him since last week during the Quidditch practice. Whenever Harry and Ron had dragged her off to visit with him she had always slipped away to visit Professor Lupin across the hall. There was always something that she needed to ask him. Or at least, she could always come up with a question.  
  
Hermione had really been offended after the practice. He had called her a child. She was aware that she was only a teenager but Hermione always liked to think that if she could prove herself capable of acting like an adult then she deserved to be treated like one. And she had begun to view Sirius as a friend rather than a grown up. But as it turned out, he was more of a typical adult than she thought. Hermione glared at the dog, she wouldn't make that mistake again.  
  
"I'm very busy now, I don't need any distractions." Hermione told him simply keeping the bitterness out of her voice.  
  
It was, of course, rather pointless to talk to Sirius when he was in his animagus form. It wasn't as if he could respond. So Hermione could only glare at him. Seeing as that was an effort in futility as well Hermione gave up and returned to her book. But it was hard to concentrate when she knew that he was sitting right there watching her. He was unnaturally still. That was one way to identify an animagus, Hermione had noticed that trait in the other animagus she had seen like Professor McGonagall and Rita Skeeter.  
  
Unable to stop herself Hermione risked a quick glance up at Sirius. His look wasn't reproachful or angry like she expected, but rather his eyes were sad and apologetic.  
  
"Don't look at me like that!" Her voice was as loud as she dared.  
  
He continued to watch her silently.  
  
"It really was uncalled for you know." Hermione muttered it was getting harder to be angry. "I was only worried. We all worry about you."  
  
Sirius had gotten down from the chair and padded around the table to stand next to her.  
  
"Do you really think that if you just give me enough time I'll stop being feeling slighted? That only works with Harry," Hermione bit her lip, "Okay, and Ron too."  
  
Sirius, of course, said nothing.  
  
"Oh all right," Hermione gave in. "Are you happy now?" She snapped without spite and then as a second though patted him gently on the head. "Shall we go meet Ron and Harry then? I imagine they told you where I was."  
  
Sirius wagged his tail in the affirmative.  
  
"Traitors," Hermione told him.  
It was on their way to the Gryffindor Common room when Malfoy ambushed Hermione. It seemed that he had been laying in wait, not for her particularly but that must have been an added bonus.  
  
"Well look who it is, Mudblood Granger," His voice was deceptively friendly.  
  
Sirius, who had been walking along side her, edged in front of her now, his hackles raised.  
  
Hermione was unperturbed though. Malfoy was a little spoiled brat who liked to make trouble for Harry and Ron. But he never struck her as a great threat.  
  
"What do you want Malfoy?" Hermione asked him.  
  
But Malfoy wasn't about to come right out with it. He turned his attention to Sirius instead, "where in the world did you get that mangy mutt?"  
  
Hermione's hand dropped to Sirius, trying to reassure him. "Sod off Malfoy."  
  
He smirked, "such language Granger. And to think here I am just wanting to do you a favor."  
  
Hermione knew better but she couldn't help but ask, "What favor?"  
  
"I noticed that you're teeth still haven't been fixed right, from when I shrunk them in our fourth year? They're still not the right size." Draco pulled out his wand.  
  
Hermione's tightened her grasp on Sirius as he began to growl. "I'm not afraid of you." She laughed loftily, "you're just a spoiled little brat with nothing to recommend you to the rest of the world."  
  
Surprisingly, she seemed to have hit a nerve. His gray eyes flashed angrily.  
  
"Just you wait Granger! Just you wait till fall, you'll be sorry. Then we'll see how little I have to recommend myself."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked scathingly, "are you going to make your vows to Voldemort over the summer? Invite some Death Eaters over for a roast, maybe have a string quartet play?"  
  
Malfoy's wand faltered slightly, for a second he looked doubtful, and almost lost.  
  
Hermione realized that she had been very close to the truth there and she felt sick. "You are truly foul Malfoy."  
  
Malfoy tightened his grip on his wand, "shut up Granger."  
  
Sirius strained forward and Hermione dropped next to him, her arm going tightly around him.  
  
"No don't, don't." She hissed.  
  
She looked up, Malfoy looked unsure of what to do. Hermione knew quite suddenly that this was serious. This wasn't one of his usual games. Sirius was pulling away from her, there was a ripple of magic, Hermione could feel it. She knew that he mustn't transform in front of Malfoy. It would be the end of him if it ever got back to Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"Stupefy"  
  
Hermione flinched and Malfoy's body fell to the ground. She spun around, her hand going for her wand, which in retrospect was what she should have done at the beginning of this whole debacle. She pointed her wand at the source of the spell.  
  
"Blaise?"  
  
"Are you all right?" He lowered his wand and approached, cautious of Sirius.  
  
He had come upon them in the shadows of the alcove quite unseen by Hermione or, more importantly, Malfoy.  
  
"I.I'm fine." Hermione stood up.  
  
Blaise looked her over then turned to Malfoy and kicked him. "He's truly scum you know, his lot gives the rest of a bad name."  
  
Hermione found herself smiling, "yes, they do."  
~*~*~*~  
"I'm going to kill Malfoy," Ron hissed during Potions the next morning.  
  
"Shhh," Hermione murmured as Professor Snape swept past them.  
  
"Doesn't look to pleased with himself today though does he?" Harry replied as he watched Malfoy who was scowling darkly at his cauldron.  
  
"Be quiet," Hermione insisted.  
  
Snape had been in a foul mood all class. He had already taken off twenty points from Gryffindor. This hadn't come as too much of a shock but when he docked Slytherin fifteen because Pansy Parkinson was reapplying her lipstick the entire class feared for their safety.  
  
"And Zambini helped you? That's hard to believe from a Slytherin." Ron was grinding his pickled salamander feet so hard that a few sparks shot out catching fire to some of Hermione's notes.  
  
"Ron!" She hissed angrily and put them out before Snape could see.  
  
"Hey Harry, Ron," Seamus Finnigan called lightly when Snape was safely on far side of the room.  
  
The two boys looked back at him. "What?" They asked in unison.  
  
"Myra Lynch wanted me to tell you that she's found out something important about the Ravenclaw game plan. She wants everyone to meet on the pitch after this class." Seamus relayed the message.  
  
"What's there to find out?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry shrugged and then looked up suddenly. "Hermione," he whispered, "I was going to take Snuffles some books from the library after class."  
  
"I can take them for you," she said easily.  
  
"Thanks," Harry grinned but looked down immediately as Snape glared at them threateningly.  
Hermione was regretting her snappy agreement an hour later as she painfully made her way through the dark hall to Sirius' rooms. A large stack of books forced her to carry her lighted wand with the pinky finger of her right hand. Not that she really aught to have bothered lighting the wand, it wasn't as if she could see over all the books. She had reached the door but angry voices were echoing out before she could knock.  
  
".only sixteen, Sirius, have you gone mad?" That was Professor Lupin's voice.  
  
"Do you think I'm not aware of that Remus? This isn't something I sought out." Sirius sounded tired and defeated.  
  
Hermione knocked hard on the door announcing her presence, she didn't want to eavesdrop any more than she had. But she did wonder what in the world they had been talking about.  
  
Professor Lupin pulled open the door, "Hermione?" He sounded stunned.  
  
"Good afternoon Professor Lupin," Hermione said cheerfully as if she hadn't heard anything.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked as she stepped past him into the room.  
  
"Harry wanted me to bring these to Sirius." She set the books down on the table with sigh of relief.  
  
Sirius was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, it was unlit, and he didn't look at her. Hermione's smile drooped.  
  
"Hello Sirius," She said hopefully but he made no reply.  
  
Hermione looked back at Professor Lupin, he was looking at her in a way that she didn't understand and Hermione was suddenly very uncomfortable. She wished that Harry and Ron were with her. There was something wrong.  
  
"I guess I'll just be going then." Her voice was small.  
~*~*~*~  
Hermione didn't mention her strange encounter to Harry or Ron when she saw them again at dinner. In fact, she said very little to them at all that evening, her mind was so focused the day's earlier events. She just couldn't understand. They chattered on through dinner and then late into the night while playing chess in the common room about Quidditch and the upcoming match against Ravenclaw, while the house cup was pretty much secured seeing as how Gryffindor was out matching every other house by at least a hundred points, winning the Quidditch cup was still of great importance to them.  
  
She had been so lost in introspection that night in the common room that she didn't even notice when Ron, in disgust, threw down his pawn and turned to her.  
  
"What is the matter with you Hermione?" He snapped in annoyance.  
  
Hermione looked up at him dumbfounded, "what're you talking about?"  
  
"You've been, you've been, well I don't know what you been doing but you've been doing it since this afternoon. I can hardly think straight with you sitting there pondering something." Ron looked exasperated.  
  
"What? That's the most ridiculous thing that you have ever said Ron Weasley," Hermione spluttered, "I sit and ponder all the time. What's so different now? Harry, tell him he's being odd."  
  
But Harry looked almost as put out as Ron. "Well it might be that usually when there's some problem that you're working on, you go to the library."  
  
"Harry, it's after hours, are you suggesting that I go break into the library?" Hermione was stunned.  
  
"She's right," Ron turned to Harry, "go get her the cloak."  
  
"Right," Harry was on his feet and up the stairs before Hermione could even speak.  
  
Before she even knew how to properly word the argument as to how insane Harry and Ron had become she was wrapped in the cloak and propelled out into the darkened school.  
  
"I don't believe this," She muttered out loud before clapping a hand to her mouth to silence herself.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Hermione turned around and headed towards the library. It was strange really; Harry and Ron never use to be this perceptive before. But lately they seemed to be noticing when she was upset or when something was weighing on her mind. Did it mean anything? And wasn't she becoming more aware of them as well? She seemed to be much more conscious of when Harry was feeling isolated or when Ron was feeling overshadowed. When had she suddenly become so astute?  
  
Hermione stopped. This hadn't been gradual, she could date it, and it started with the spell. Her spell. Hermione started running. This was definitely an unexpected side effect.  
  
"Ron and Harry are going to kill me," She groaned softly.  
  
Being invisible had the unfortunate tendency of empowering one. Hermione cared less about the noise that she was making and more about where she was going. The library still, but now she had a purpose. What had only been meant as binding charm seemed to be turning into an empathic link. She was so busy running through the books in her mind that she would want to get first that she didn't even see the dark figure step out of the shadows to intercept her.  
  
"Ooomph," Hermione gasped as she ran into the shadow.  
  
"Who are you?" A familiar voice asked her dangerously. He began trying to find the hood of her cloak.  
  
"Sirius?" Hermione whispered in recognition.  
  
He released her in shock and Hermione pushed the cowl back and looked up, trying to make out his face. He leaned closer to her, bringing himself into the shallow light flickering from a lighted candle a few feet away.  
  
"What are you doing here Hermione? Do Harry and Ron know that you're out here alone?" He seemed concerned.  
  
Ruefully Hermione grinned, "Actually they're the ones that sent me out. I was getting on their sensitive nerves." She paused to look him up and down. "The Headmaster is sending you out again?"  
  
Sirius had been carrying a rucksack, which he set on the ground. "Yes."  
  
"Well you will be careful won't you? Harry worries so much when you're gone, we all do." Hermione could feel herself begin to flush and gritted her teeth forcing it back under control.  
  
"Hermione," Sirius's hand was suddenly near her face, he was tucking a willful lock of hair back behind her ear, "you'll watch over Harry and Ron, won't you?"  
  
Hermione swallowed, it seemed strangely hard to breathe. "You.you aren't coming back?"  
  
Sirius hadn't withdrawn his hand; his fingers had curled loosely around the lock of hair. "No." He let go abruptly as if realizing just what he had been doing.  
  
"But why?"  
  
Sirius picked up his pack and walked past her.  
  
Hermione reached out and clutched his arm, "why are you going?"  
  
"It's better this way." He said and gently loosened her fingers. "Tell Harry and Ron goodbye for me. And please, tell Harry I'm sorry."  
  
He extricated himself from her grip and disappeared back into the shadows. Hermione didn't understand why he was leaving, but a part of her knew that she should. 


	7. More Company Arrives

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author Notes: I should have more chapters in the next few days. Please Read & Review! And again..this is an odd chapter so it takes place in the present!  
  
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It was dark when Hermione woke. For an instant she was confused. She had been working in the living room late into the night, long after Sirius had fallen asleep, long after the words on the pages had begun to blur in front of her eyes. But Hermione knew that she had never gone to bed. And yet, there she was, curled delicately under her blanket. The curtains were drawn in front of windows that Hermione never blocked from view. Had Sirius carried her into her room? It seemed unlikely but there appeared to be little other explanation.  
  
Her feet thudded to the ground; she made her way to the window, and pulled back the thick, blue curtains. So much of her room was blue, but she hardly ever noticed. The light hurt her eyes as she pushed the drapes away. Hermione hadn't been outside for days. Without Ron and Harry dragging her out she felt little need to go. Their absence was taking its toll.  
  
Frost stung at the corners of the pane. She would have to go out today even though it looked painfully cold. Hermione needed more books. More books meant Diagon Alley.  
  
She got cleaned up quickly, this time charming her hair dry with a flick of her wand; it wouldn't do to catch a cold at a time like this. Hermione decided on robes today. Wearing muggle clothing, while comfortable when lounging about the flat, would only serve to draw unwanted attention to her back in the wizard world.  
  
Hermione had just finished buttoning the charcoal colored robes when she became aware of a smell. Someone was brewing coffee. Her earlier puzzlement seemed to be lingering as she opened her door quickly almost expecting Ron to be there. But that, of course, was impossible.  
  
Her near heartbroken look wasn't lost on Sirius as he looked up at her from where he sat at the dining table. His hair was still wet from his own shower; he had combed it back, obviously making the attempt to look more presentable. A distant part of Hermione wanted to give him a quick hair cut.  
  
"Something wrong?" He asked.  
  
"You made coffee."  
  
"Yes, shouldn't I have?"  
  
Hermione shook her head quickly, "no it's fine. It's just that Ron always made the coffee. I.I was just surprised is all." She drooped slightly.  
  
"I made toast as well. I found a jar of preserves in the pantry, something Ron's mother made." Sirius changed the subject from Ron. "There's hardly any food left, we'll have to go to the grocers."  
  
"I was planning on going to Diagon Alley today anyway. I'll stop by the grocers on my way back." Hermione replied.  
  
"When should we go?" Sirius closed the Daily Prophet that he had been reading.  
  
Hermione frowned in annoyance; she wasn't use to having someone peruse her newspaper before her. "We? Do you really think it's safe for you to go walking through Diagon Alley?"  
  
"I'm not letting you go alone." Sirius tossed the paper across the table.  
  
Hermione glowered at him, she wasn't a child, she was a grownup and an Auror to boot. But for some reason it hardly seemed worth the effort fighting with him over it. "Fine, but we should go soon, the crowds will be heavy in the afternoon.  
  
Sirius nodded, "but not until you eat something first." He added.  
  
Hermione glared, a twinge of territorial anger in the pit of her stomach. But it wasn't because he was giving her orders; it was because he was giving her Harry's orders. The number of times Harry had forced to her break away from what she was doing in order to eat was immeasurable. It was almost a sacred tradition, akin to Ron making the coffee or Hermione being first to read the paper. Sirius Black had no right to be intruding like this.  
  
He took in her furious eyes, her pink tinged face, "Harry and Ron wouldn't want you to go hungry you know."  
  
Her hands, which had clenched into fists, released slowly. It was ridiculous. He was worried; she knew that she looked on the verge of wasting away. But this whole ordeal was very stressful and she missed them so much it hurt.  
  
"There's mail you realize." Sirius was speaking again.  
  
Hermione glanced over her shoulder to where he pointed. She had been ignoring the owls as they arrived almost every hour. Hermione had pretended that she didn't see the pile of letters and scrolls all containing concessions of sympathy. She acted like she didn't know that Sirius had gone through them all and removed any that were less than considerate. Hermione knew that he had burned all the curses and threats the night before last while she stayed locked away in her room. It was considerate of him; something that Hermione hadn't before realized that he was capable of with her.  
  
"I don't want to read them," she murmured softly and entered the kitchen.  
  
Sirius followed her, "Hermione, some of those are from the people who care about you the most. The Weasleys, Dumbledore, your parents even went so far as to use an owl since you won't return their telephone calls."  
  
Hermione found the stack of slightly burned toast, began to spread jam on one piece, and poured herself a cup of coffee, appearing to all the world like she hadn't heard a single word. Sirius stood behind her and Hermione thought that he was going to grab her arm like he had so many other times in order to force her to give him the attention he wanted.  
  
But Sirius didn't touch her, "Hermione, you can't shut out the world."  
  
Hermione sighed, turning to him, "I'm not shutting out the world, I'm just very busy, there isn't much time. And the world will still be there when I'm done."  
  
Sirius was only a foot from her. His black eyes bearing down on her, not unkindly she realized with a twinge of surprise. Time proceeded by unchecked; they could have been standing in that kitchen for hours and probably wouldn't have noticed. Maybe they would have done just that if there hadn't been a knock on the door.  
  
Sirius grasped Hermione's arm, "stay here," he ordered before swooping out of the kitchen and down the hall.  
  
She followed directly behind him; un-swayed by his order, or the dark glare he gave her. He removed his stolen wand from a pocket and slowly opened the door.  
  
"Hullo dearie." Mrs. Tavary's voice trailed off as she looked at Sirius.  
  
"Oh get out of the way Sirius," Hermione snapped, shoving him aside. "Hello Mrs. Tavary, how are you?"  
  
"I'm fine child, are you?" The old woman sent Sirius, who was still looming behind Hermione, a suspicious scowl.  
  
"Yes, yes I'm fine, did you want to come in for tea or something?" Hermione ignored the small murmurs of indignation coming from Sirius.  
  
"Oh no, I'm off to visit my sister Ruth for the weekend in Bristow. I just wanted to give you this, came in the post yesterday it has my address on it but your name, and I don't know anyone in Romania." The old woman passed a postcard to Hermione, smiled, and turned away.  
  
Hermione was so busy studying the card that Mrs. Tavary was already half down the stairs before she called after her, "Thank you and have a good holiday!"  
  
She closed the door with one hand, her eyes focused entirely on the card. It was simple, a traditional muggle postcard. It featured an idyllic setting of a small town on the edge of a great forest. The words emblazoned across it stated "Wish You Were Here". Sirius took it from her.  
  
"Who is this from?" He turned it over in his hands studying the blank back.  
  
Hermione pulled it back from him shrugging. "I don't know. Maybe one of those travel advertisements. We get those sometimes."  
  
Sirius watched her suspiciously as she slipped it into her pocket. "You keep all your advertisements?"  
  
Hermione smiled almost sweetly at him, "just the one's with pretty pictures." She turned back down the hall towards the kitchen where she had every intention of drinking another cup of coffee and eating several slices of jammed toast.  
  
Sirius watched her, confused over the smile and the sudden spring in her step. He didn't know that she was feeling better than she had all week. He didn't know why her hand slid back into her pocket to touch the post card again. He didn't know that Ron and Harry had just sent her a message.  
~*~*~*~  
"Snuffles, please, I am trying to look at the books on this shelf if you don't mind." Hermione had to use both hands to push the great furry form of Sirius out of her way. He seemed intent on sniffing every book that she was about touch. "Flourish and Blotts hasn't had a case of a book attack in centuries, well, not counting those Monster books of Hagrid's." Hermione told him in a low whisper.  
  
As annoying as having a large black watchdog hanging around underfoot, she was finding his presence to be very useful. Several people had already seemed aware of who she was, but no one wanted to approach the girl accompanied by a grim.  
  
"All right," she said softly standing back and adjusting the pile of books in her arms, "I think I'm ready."  
  
Sirius looked at the pile of books in her arms then met her eyes as if to question why didn't she just buy the whole bookstore? But Hermione just smiled cheerfully back at him. She was still in a very good mood about the postcard. They were supposed to send her postcards from wherever they were so that she wouldn't worry. Well, she would always worry, but not nearly as much now.  
  
She paid for her books and they headed onto the cold street of Diagon Alley. Dark clouds loomed low overhead foretelling of an early season snow. Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself. She wasn't going to go to Obscuras Books today, it would be too hard to see Ron's old boss. They would leave the wizard street, make a quick stop at the muggle grocers and then they would be blessedly at home again.  
  
"Ms. Granger! A word, please!"  
  
Hermione turned, hurrying after them was a young woman holding a, Hermione shivered involuntarily, a quick quotes quill and pad. A man with a camera followed closely beyond that. The dratted Daily Prophet had gotten wind of her visit.  
  
"Ms. Granger, are readers are dying to know." The woman stopped abruptly as Sirius growled. "Is.is that dangerous?" She pointed at Sirius.  
  
Hermione looked the dog up and down and fought back a smile, "Only when he thinks I'm about to be taken advantage of, then he gets very protective."  
  
"I.I." The reporter, who obviously did not have the backbone of Rita Skeeter, took a step backwards. "I don't like dogs."  
  
"Really?" Hermione replied placing a gentle hand atop Sirius' head and ruffled his hair, "that is a shame."  
  
"Millie," the photographer urged at the woman.  
  
"Whatever you want to ask me, I have no comment." Hermione said shortly as the woman readied her quill.  
  
"You can't mean that, the people have a right to."  
  
Sirius growled again, his hackles raised, the woman stopped speaking.  
  
"Let's go Snuffles," Hermione told him.  
  
The reporter didn't follow as they walked through the wall that would lead them to the Leaky Cauldron but Hermione could hear the woman arguing loudly with her photographer long after the wall had closed behind them.  
  
~*~*~*~  
The flat wasn't far from Diagon Alley. They had chosen it for many reasons, convenience being high on their list. From Diagon Alley one could get to almost anywhere in the wizarding world. The Leaky Cauldron, while tending to look more and more disreputable as it aged, was connected to a broad floo network that extended far beyond the British Isles. Almost any spell or potion ingredient that they had needed could be found there. And the Auroring headquarters were there as well as the Ministry's main offices.  
  
They could have taken a flat in the Alley itself had they wanted. All the little shops housed apartments above. But they had decided such a location would have been too public and Hermione, Harry, and Ron had become very secretive people.  
  
While having a prime location only a few blocks from the Leaky Cauldron had been important, it hadn't been the deciding factor for them. From the moment they had crossed off of the main road and down the small, almost hidden side street, Hermione had been excited about it. The crumbling stone steps up to the door had drawn questionable looks from Ron and Harry. But the moment Hermione had breathed in the quiet and somewhat dusty air she had fallen quite in love.  
  
For a very long time Hermione couldn't understand why she had become so set on their flat. It was non-descript. There was no flash of vibrant color marking the moldings; there was no furl of sudden architecture that would draw the eye. She could never figure out what drew her to this place.  
  
But that was before. That was when Harry and Ron were still with her. Now, for the very first time, she could see what had drawn her to this place. In a life that had been nothing but extraordinary for many years, this was her one bastion of normalcy. This was the one place where magic wasn't commonplace. She loved everything about being a wizard, but it was exhausting sometimes. And this place was so terribly muggle that Hermione had been drawn like a woebegone moth. She loved the still air, the dull colored steps, and the elderly neighbors that complained when Harry and Ron got to rambunctious. But most of all Hermione loved the solitude of it. In the wizarding world she was never alone, there was always a ruckus going on, always someone seeking her attention or her knowledge. But here, all that surrounded her was part of her; from the dark blue curtains to the bookshelves, and especially Ron and Harry who seemed to be such a large part of her that Hermione felt she could drown in their presence.  
  
Hermione wanted nothing more in the world than to be with them at the moment. In a single instant of time she would have given everything to be with them. She would have given up everything that made her who she was. The feeling past quickly but some telltale expression of heartbreaking emptiness must have lingered for Sirius was speaking to her.  
  
"Hermione? Hermione are you all right?" He stopped unpacking the grocers' sack.  
  
"I." Hermione tried to focus on the words, or the cans in her hands that she was stacking in the pantry but tears were already blurring the lettering.  
  
Cautiously he approached her. His dark eyes vibrant and hopeful, searching for the anguish that Hermione had to be feeling over the deaths of Ron and Harry. But Sirius wasn't pleased when he saw it there. Her sorrow was so palpable that he could barely stand to witness it.  
  
Hermione felt ridiculous, on the verge of tears in front of Sirius, and all this brought on by the simple fact that she had bought soup for Ron. She hadn't even noticed when her hand had placed it in the basket. It hadn't drawn her attention when she paid for it. But even though the tears had almost clouded her vision entirely she could finally see it. She despised tomato soup.  
  
She set the can down on the counter top, her hands grasped the edges for support as the sniffle pulling at the base of her throat started to shake her body. She didn't fight Sirius when he pulled her to him. Rather, she gripped his robe with both hands and sobbed into his chest. The release had been long in coming. And the comfort that she found in Sirius' arms prickled oddly on her subconscious but Hermione was too tired to think about it. She was too tired to consider how it felt almost nice to have Sirius gently stroking the back of her head or how she wanted nothing more than to collapse completely into his arms. All Hermione could think was how this was the first time in years that Sirius had treated her with something other than disapproval.  
  
Her sobs began to quiet finally. Sirius did not release her though, it seemed as if he was trying to make up for all the time that he should have been comforting her. He smelled nice. It was an amusing thought that brought a smile to Hermione's lips of all things to think of at a time like this. But it was true; he spelled of the soap that Harry used. Clean and fresh, reminiscent of some cold moor after a rain. But he didn't smell like Harry.  
  
Hermione pulled out of his arms, avoiding his eyes. She rubbed at the tears still staining her cheeks and reached for a handkerchief. She must be going mad to be thinking about how he smelled.  
  
There was a knock. Hermione wiped at her eyes again, it wouldn't do to have Mrs. Tavary see her so upset, the old woman would have the police over to the flat in no time. She was already suspicious of Sirius as it was. Hermione affixed what she hoped was a cheery smile to her face and opened the door.  
  
"Hullo Granger."  
  
There was only the smallest fraction of a second in which Hermione's smile faltered before Sirius had knocked past her a roar like that of a threatened animal boiling from deep with in him. She tried to grab at him desperately as he passed, hell bent on murder, but he slipped by. Malfoy stumbled back, his hand going for his wand but Sirius wasn't going to bother with anything so paltry as a wand.  
  
"Sirius!" Hermione cried but he didn't stop. With no other choice left to her Hermione raised her wand. "Stupefy!"  
  
Sirius Black fell heavily to the ground. 


	8. The Unwelcome Guest

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Author Notes: Okay, here are chapters 8 & 9. I have been trying very hard to keep my mind focused on the fic, I've discovered that I am able to put Inuyasha aside for a little while as long as I listen to a cd of burned Inuyasha songs while I'm typing. It's a sickness, I know. Anyhoo.about the chapter.when I started this fic I was not planning on having Draco in it at all. However, he did not agree with me.  
  
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Summer Before Seventh Year  
Most people spent the whole year looking forward to their summer break. Most people longed for those couple of months that interrupted the routine of school. Most people looked back at their summer vacation as a time of relaxation, of a time lost in the past where the days had been warm, the sky clear, and the nights twinkled with such a production of stars that a person could imagine that they had saved their best shine for June and July.  
  
Hermione was many things, but she wasn't most people. And the summer months seemed to draw slowly past. There was nothing for her to do. Ron and Harry were hours away at the Burrow. The cool stone halls of Hogwarts were even farther. Hermione was left with nothing to do but muck about her home in a distant London suburb that looked exactly like every other distant London suburb.  
  
They had invited her to the Burrow. But hopes that this year's summer could be as good as last year's were dashed quickly. Hermione's mother, in what could only have been an early case of empty nest syndrome, insisted that she stay home with them. Hermione had been furious, of course. She was very used to making her own decisions. Her parents were very loving but they had always handled childrearing with a laissez-faire attitude. Their sudden interjection of unusual authority had left her angrily shocked.  
  
She was so bored at home. All she had to look forward to was the upcoming letter from Hogwarts, which must be coming in a few weeks containing her supply list, and, Hermione mentally crossed her fingers and toes, a head girl pin.  
  
Hermione curled her legs underneath herself as she settled back into the chair in the parlor. From her Arithmancy book she pulled forth a letter from Ron and Harry. It had arrived yesterday morning. There would probably be one tomorrow as well. The three friends had taken to writing each other very regularly. Hermione found that she enjoyed reading about even the tiniest things. She could so easily picture them in her mind.  
  
"Dear Hermione,  
  
What's the dear for anyway? I mean, couldn't I just say 'Hey Hermione', or 'Hi Hermione'? Who thought up this 'Dear' dribble? I feel like I'm writing to a teacher, although if you get to be Head Girl you'll almost be a teacher. "  
  
Hermione smiled at this. She had been afraid of Ron's reaction when she told them that she wanted to be Head Girl. She had told them she had turned down the prefect offer last year because she wouldn't have time what with the spell, but in truth, she had been afraid of how they would react. But this year she wanted it so badly, they just had to understand, and as it turned out they had.  
  
"You really aught to get to Diagon Alley. I know that your mum doesn't fancy you riding that underhole thing, Harry says it's an underground? Does that even make sense? Harry and I are in Diagon Alley almost every day. I'm working, of course, but Harry is being a bit of a loafer. He spends all his time there eating ice cream and trying to get me into trouble. You really should come; it's not the same without you.  
  
And if you're not here then Percy talks to us. Can you believe that he still hasn't moved out of the Burrow? The first thing that Fred and George did when they got off the train after their seventh year was pack up and get out. Percy is such a mama's boy. Don't tell him I said that."  
  
The handwriting changed from a sprawling, messy jumble to neater, sharper letters. Harry had taken charge of the letter.  
  
"We got a letter from Snuffles. First time we've heard from him since he left. You probably got a letter too since Ron and I each got one so none of this will be news to you. Can you believe that he's in Japan? Do you think he could have gotten any farther from England?"  
  
Hermione didn't think he could have gotten any farther from England. And even though this was her fourth time reading through the letter she still felt a surprisingly painful burning in her chest because no, Sirius had not written her a letter.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
Startled, Hermione slipped the letter back in her book and turned towards the voice. Her mother stood smiling at her.  
  
"Hello, I didn't hear you come in." Hermione closed the book.  
  
"Yes, well mothers have to be stealthy or we would never have a chance to be with our daughters."  
  
Hermione flushed slightly, it was true, she had been childishly avoiding her mother. "Sorry."  
  
Her mother sat down in a chair to the right and reached over to pat her daughter's arm. "It's all right, I know you were angry with me for not letting you go to your friends. I'm just going to be losing you so soon. I hadn't realized it before."  
  
"You're not going to lose me, that is silly." Hermione replied defiantly.  
  
"It's all right Hermione, every mother loses their daughter. I just thought that I had a few more years." Her mother's eyes looked far away for a moment. "You're so very pretty Hermione. And you're always surrounded by boys."  
  
Hermione blushed at the sudden compliment and the implications that went along with it. "Mum." She pleaded half-heartedly.  
  
"Is there anyone special that I should know about? Maybe Ron or Harry?" Her mother's voice was carefully prying.  
  
Hermione's blushed deepened, "Of course not!" But an image of Harry's brooding godfather ran unbidden through her mind.  
  
Hermione's mother grinned triumphantly as she felt that Hermione had as good as admitted to being madly in love with one of her best friends. She leaned forward in the chair about to launch into a barrage of questions when there was a distant pounding sound.  
  
"What was that?" Her mother asked.  
  
"Someone at the door?" Hermione asked, "Are we expecting anyone?"  
  
"No, but I'll bet your father has locked himself out again. I told him that he could just wait until tomorrow to pick up the groceries." Mrs. Granger sighed in consternation.  
  
Hermione grinned and stood up, "I'll let him in. It's not his fault that he gets easily distracted."  
  
She made her way through the parlor and out into the hall. Hermione reached the foyer and opened the door, a commiserating smile of welcome on her face for she too easily misplaced the keys to their home. But as the door swung open Hermione stepped back with a gasp and an instant flash of pure panic. For standing on her front step as if God himself had placed him there was Draco Malfoy.  
  
The blonde Slytherin stood leaning against the doorframe, a mostly empty bottle with a dark liquid sloshing about its insides was clenched tightly in his hand. Majority of the liqueur appeared to have marred the front of his robes. "Hullo Granger," he drawled. C  
  
Hermione took another step back and Malfoy followed. He reached out for her and Hermione thought he was going to strike her but instead his arm settled around her shoulders and the weight of his body was suddenly pressed against hers.  
  
"Hermione? What's going on? Who is it?" Mrs. Granger's voice sounded worriedly down the hall as she appeared at the far end. "Who is that?"  
  
"Ahh, one of the mudblood's parents, how charming." Draco grinned as he breathed into Hermione's ear.  
  
Hermione shoved him off of her with a hiss of disgust and the Slytherin boy sank to the floor. Her mother reached her and stared in shock at Malfoy.  
  
"Hello," Draco grinned cheekily up at Mrs. Granger, "I know your daughter from Hogwarts."  
  
"What has happened to you child?" Her mother asked as she kneeled down in front of Draco and took the bottle away from him. She gingerly lifted his arm and gasped.  
  
Hermione peered around her mother and saw, for the first time, what her mother had seen immediately. The dark stains on his robes hadn't come from the bottle; they were blood. Hermione felt her stomach turn as her mother examined a gash on Malfoy's arm.  
  
"Hermione," her mother commanded as she got to her feet, "go make a pot of tea and find some aspirin for your friend."  
  
"He's not my friend," Hermione replied fervently, "I despise him. He's a horrible."  
  
"Now Hermione!" Her mother's voice was sharp and Hermione knew that she would broach no more argument.  
  
Inwardly fuming, Hermione watched as her mother led Malfoy up the stairs and into the bathroom. She then turned and stormed into the kitchen. She set a kettle of water to boil and sat on a stool with her elbows propped on the counter. As her ire faded, worry took its place. What was Malfoy doing here?  
  
Almost a half hour later, a clean and bandaged Malfoy was guided into the kitchen. Hermione's mother settled him gently onto the stool next to her daughter's.  
  
"I'm going to ring Dr. Isaak, see if he can't pop over for a minute and look at Draco's arm. I think it'll need some suturing."  
  
Hermione watched as her mother left the kitchen to phone their neighbor. She turned back to Malfoy who was slumped against the counter, his wet hair hanging in front of his eyes. He was dressed in some of her father's old clothes. If the situation hadn't been so entirely odd, Hermione might have giggled. Instead Hermione dutifully poured one of her most hated adversaries a cup of tea.  
  
"Your mother's nice," he said finally after he had taken a tentative sip of tea.  
  
"I know," Hermione replied coldly as she brought her own teacup to her lips.  
  
"My mother's dead," Malfoy said softly as he studied his tea.  
  
Hermione fumbled with her cup and almost dropped it, as it was she set it down so hard that the edge chipped. "What?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.  
  
"You'd think that twenty years of marriage would have meant something. I never thought that he would." Malfoy's voice faded off.  
  
"Your father?" Hermione whispered.  
  
"He didn't need her anymore I guess. She wouldn't lay off about the Death Eaters. She was furious that I had."  
  
"That you had what?" Hermione's voice was trembling and she stood up.  
  
Malfoy suddenly began unwrapping his arm, haphazardly pulling the bandages away. "It doesn't come off you know. Blood comes off, but this.this stays forever."  
  
Hermione watched, horrified, as the bandages dropped away revealing several deep gouge wounds that started oozing blood again. But before the blood could hide it, Hermione saw the dark mark.  
  
"She didn't want this you know," he muttered.  
  
And Hermione started to cry. He looked up at her with a mixture of surprise and chagrin.  
  
"You did this?" She motioned towards his arm.  
  
Malfoy nodded slowly. The blood was still flowing slowly down his arm from the self-inflicted wound, but he wasn't even aware of this as Hermione gently touched his shoulder. And when she put her arms around him, he didn't even try to hold back his own tears.  
Hermione leaned against wall and watched as Dr. Isaak began stitching up Draco's arm. He flinched slightly as the doctor pulled the suture tight. Hermione turned away and entered the hall, not wanting to see any more blood tonight. Her father had come home a few minutes earlier and he was sitting with her mother in the parlor talking to Draco. She turned away as the phone began to ring shrilly from the hall table.  
  
"Hello, Granger residence." Hermione answered disinterestedly.  
  
"Hermione?" A voice called through the receiver, "Hermione is that you? Are you all right?"  
  
It was hard to immediately identify the voice, "Harry?" She asked cautiously.  
  
There was a muffled sound and Harry's voice was distant, "It's Hermione."  
  
"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione was confused.  
  
"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry sounded worried.  
  
Hermione glanced back towards the parlor, "yes, of course I am. Are you all right?"  
  
"We're fine, are you sure that you are?" There was another muffling sound and then Harry's voice was far away again, "she says that she's fine."  
  
"Harry, what is going on?" Hermione asked again trying to regain his attention. "And when did the Weasley's get a telephone?"  
  
"We're not at the Burrow, we went into town to use a phone." Harry paused as if trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say, "it was the strangest thing, we were playing exploding snap and then we.we both thought something had happened, happened to you."  
  
Hermione leaned against the wall, "Malfoy," She said quietly.  
  
There was a pause on the other end, "did you say Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione was staring unseeing at the front door from which Malfoy had just intruded into her very normal muggle life, "he's here."  
  
"Malfoy's there?" Harry was incredulous.  
  
There was a sudden scuffle on the other end followed by a bit of cursing and then Harry's voice was replaced by Ron's.  
  
"What do you mean Malfoy's there!?" Ron sounded horrified.  
  
"He showed up, about a half hour ago, he's a real mess." Her voice was surprisingly accepting of this fact, the oddness of Malfoy being in her house was nothing compared to the fact that Harry and Ron had known that something was amiss.  
  
"Well, get out of the house, we'll be there as soon as we can. I'll owl dad on the way and he'll go to the Ministry and." Ron was still listing off his plans for bringing down the wrath of the Ministry when Hermione cut him off.  
  
"No, no don't come." Hermione said quickly, she needed some time to figure this out, some time to explain how her spell could be doing this to them.  
  
"Not come? I don't understand; if Malfoy is there then you're in danger." Ron sounded hurt.  
  
Hermione threaded her fingers through the curled phone cord; "I don't think he's a danger to me Ron, only to himself."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked sharply then to Harry, "She doesn't want us to come."  
  
"I'll explain it tomorrow." Hermione's voice lowered, "I'll come to Diagon Alley tomorrow, I'll tell you everything that I can, just not right now, not tonight." She could hear the hesitation through the line and added, "Please trust me." It was the trump card of course; trust. And Ron had nothing that could fight against it.  
  
"Are you sure?" He asked although they both knew that she was.  
  
"Yes, please don't worry. Everything will be fine."  
  
"I don't like this Hermione. And neither does Harry." Ron's voice softened, "be careful won't you? You know what Malfoy is like."  
  
"I know." Hermione told him and hung up the phone with a soft good bye.  
  
They were still talking in the parlor, Malfoy, her parents, and Dr. Isaak. Hermione slipped silently past the room and into the kitchen. But she only had a moment to sit down at the table when they entered as well.  
  
"Attacked by a dog! What is this world coming to? Honestly Richard."  
  
She turned to see her parents leading Malfoy into the kitchen. Malfoy, for his part, was looking rather pale. Hermione figured that muggle healing was not quite to his liking.  
  
"Sobering up then Malfoy?" Hermione asked delicately, not really intending any harm.  
  
He seemed to relax somewhat at her slight, pleased to be back on more familiar ground and yet oddly happy to not have her insult be stinging.  
  
"Really though Draco," Hermione's mother guided Draco to a seat at the table, "you should never drink that much! Not good for you at all." She tutted kindly and Draco seemed to bask in it.  
  
"Hermione," her father said bringing the attention of the three to the other side of the table, "you should have told us that your friend's family was going abroad."  
  
"Imagine," her mother said as she patted Malfoy on the back, "staying above that tavern off of Diagon Alley. Utter nonsense."  
  
"Your friend will be staying with us until you go back to Hogwarts." Her father added while her mother nodded in agreement.  
  
Hermione looked at her parents in shock and then shifted her glare towards Draco, she might feel bad for him, yes. But stay at her house? As if sensing her thoughts he shrugged his shoulders at her as if to say that this wasn't his idea.  
  
As if this was the most natural situation in the world her parents walked the doctor out of the house and went to bed, insisting that Hermione show Malfoy the guest bedroom before she snuck off to her own.  
  
She sat at the table still wondering how her pleasant evening at home had gotten so convoluted. Hermione got to her feet and went to pour another cup of tea. His gray eyes followed her movement with vague interest. She ignored him, however.  
  
"I told you the truth you know," he said finally, a painful note of desperation in his voice.  
  
"I know,' she replied softly.  
~*~*~*~  
True to her word, Hermione slipped unseen from her bedroom the following morning before the sun had even erupted through the horizon. She stopped momentarily outside of the guest room across from her own door. The thought of Malfoy alone with her parents made her insides squirm. But he had seemed so broken the night before and she had to talk with Harry and Ron.  
  
It was only a few blocks walk to reach the nearest underground terminal. Hermione had ridden it thousands of times in her youth but rarely alone. Lines of worry crisscrossed her face, chasing after each other as her frown deepened. It wasn't the trip that concerned her though, how in the world would they understand?  
  
Even though it was wretchedly early still, the tunnels were crowded and noisy. People jostled each other in their mad rush to get in before the doors closed. Hermione grasped a pole for support and clung breathlessly to it. A tremor of fear shook through her.  
  
"Some bloody good Gryffindor I am," Hermione cursed then bit her tongue when she heard the words that were meant to stay unspoken with her own ears.  
  
Not as soon as she would have liked, they came to a stop, and Hermione was forced out along with the throng. Glancing at a map on the graffiti covered wall she saw that the Leaky Cauldron was only a mile or so away. Hermione decided that she would far prefer walking the rest.  
  
As was expected, they were waiting for her. The nearly empty tavern hosted only a select few for breakfast that morning. But Harry and Ron were there, in the far corner, with a pot of tea and a plate of pumpkin scones that still steamed. Hermione sighed in relief. Just seeing them made her feel better.  
  
They waved as she approached and to her surprise Harry rose from his chair and hugged her before releasing her into Ron's arms. There was a flustered silence as the trio blushed and then Hermione sat quickly.  
  
"Okay, so let me get this straight, Malfoy came to your house last night?" Harry asked as he forced a scone into Hermione's hand.  
  
"Came and stayed," she said between bites.  
  
Ron went three shades redder than normal, "why? What does he want?"  
  
"I'm not sure really," Hermione mulled as she chewed a particularly tough raisin.  
  
"Hermione," Harry's voice held every bit of authority that he could muster being on the verge of seventeen. "Hermione stop dancing around the point, what happened last night?"  
  
Hermione lowered the scone and studied her hands, she owed Malfoy nothing, and yet, she was reluctant to betray what had seemed to be such an intimate conversation with him. "He was drunk."  
  
"Yeah, I'll bet that ponce can't hold his liqueur." Ron's grin died as Hermione and Harry both shot him a glance.  
  
"He has the Dark Mark," Hermione's voice was little more than a whisper. She had almost called him a Death Eater but even though she had seen the mark, even though she knew what it meant, she would never see Malfoy as belonging to that faceless evil.  
  
Ron and Harry both swore loudly, drawing curious glances from the few other patrons. Hermione shushed them quickly.  
  
"You don't understand," Hermione tried to say but Ron was fuming.  
  
"You left that.that thing with your parents? Are you mad? Why haven't you called the Aurors yet?" Ron was so frustrated that he got to his feet.  
  
Harry nodded his agreement.  
  
Hermione waited until Ron had stopped cursing Malfoy's name before she tried explaining again. "He tried to cut it off."  
  
Ron sank back into his chair without a word.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy killed his mother, at least, that is what he told me." Hermione fingered a crumb on the plate before her.  
  
"Do you believe him?" Harry asked. Ron seemed incapable of words.  
  
Hermione pressed her finger down, feeling the crumb give way into many tiny pieces. "I do."  
  
"What should we do?" Harry wondered aloud to himself.  
  
"Do? We? Why do we have to do anything?" Ron had finally found his voice again, "this is Malfoy we're talking about. That's too bad about his mother, but he did go down for the tattoo before that right? He's evil, he chose to be evil."  
  
"Well," Hermione withdrew her hand and wiped her fingers on the knee of her robe, "maybe he can choose to be good now."  
  
Ron groaned, "you're so bloody idyllic Hermione."  
  
"Thanks Ron," she snapped.  
  
"This isn't helping," Harry cut in before they could start a row.  
  
They sat silently, eating and drinking, lost in their own worries. Hermione worried more than the others. She had to tell them, now before she lost her nerve.  
  
"There's something else," Hermione said quickly.  
  
Ron and Harry looked up together, "What?" They asked.  
  
"It's.it's about the spell." She didn't have to elaborate on the word spell; they all knew what she was referring to.  
  
Ron cast a nervous glance towards Harry, "well, what about it?"  
  
"Haven't you wondered why, in the middle of a game of exploding snap, the two of you thought I was in danger?"  
  
"We have killer instincts?" Ron offered warily.  
  
Hermione ignored his attempt at humor. When she spoke again the words tumbled so quickly from her mouth that it would have been unintelligible for anyone else in the world, everyone except Harry and Ron. "I think that the spell has made an empathic bond between us. I don't know how or why but I started noticing it a few months ago. When the Aurors were in Hogsmeade I felt things that I had never felt before, I hated them so much, but I didn't understand. I think that I did not understand because they weren't really my emotions, I think they were yours Harry."  
  
Hermione looked quickly away. She chewed her lower lip nervously. Harry and Ron seemed too stunned to say anything. Hermione poured herself another cup of tea and drank it all in a gulp, the searing liquid turning her face pink.  
  
"How long will it last?" Harry was the first to form his thoughts into words.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione groaned.  
  
Ron suddenly smiled, "that explains it then!"  
  
Hermione and Harry looked at him quizzically. Ron was looking exceptionally pleased with himself.  
  
"For the last month or so I've become very concerned about the NEWTS. I've never cared about that stupid test before. I mean it's ages away. But I started color-coding all of my notes from last year in case I needed it to study." Ron looked a bit sheepish now, "I thought I was going out of my mind."  
  
"Because God forbid you be concerned about your grades." Hermione responded snidely for she had been color-coding her notes. Then in a softer voice, "so you aren't angry then?"  
  
Harry looked at Ron and they reached their decision together. "No," they said in unison.  
  
"These things happen." Harry told her kindly.  
  
"Hey Harry, what am I thinking?" Ron scowled hard at Harry.  
  
"No Ron, I don't think Percy fancies other wizards." Harry responded with a wicked grin.  
  
"Damn, and I was so sure. Hey Hermione, we're telepathic now!" Ron laughed.  
  
"I can't ever depend on you to be serious can I Ron Weasley?" But Hermione wasn't angry. She glanced down at her watch, she had been gone almost an hour. "I had better go, you know that my mother doesn't like me riding the Underground alone."  
  
"Do you want me to go back with you?" Harry asked her.  
  
"Thank you but no, I can take care of myself."  
~*~*~*~  
Hermione's plan for taking care of herself was to completely pretend that Malfoy didn't exist. He wasn't sitting at her kitchen table reading the paper when she got home, he wasn't being obnoxiously charming to her mother over the eggs, he wasn't drinking orange juice from her glass, and he most definitely was not enjoying himself.  
  
The problem with Hermione's denial was that it was just that, denial. For Malfoy was doing all those things when she returned home. And for all intents and purposes he seemed to be completely at ease in the too big muggle clothing and enjoying the presence of people that he had met for the very first time yesterday but had spent his entire spoiled life professing to hate. Hermione scowled at him from the doorway. He glanced up at her and gave her his most snarky smile. Hermione huffed and walked right past him.  
  
Her parents might be insisting on him staying, but she didn't have to like it, did she? Hermione settled into the armchair in the parlor. She reached into her bag for her Arithmancy book, nothing could calm her frazzled nerves like a bit of studying, but it wasn't there.  
  
"Looking for this?"  
  
Hermione spun in her chair; Malfoy was standing right behind her, the book held easily in his hands, the smallest of smirks on his face.  
  
"You went through my bag?" Hermione was horrified.  
  
"Your room too after you snuck out. Where did you go anyway?" Draco tossed the book into her lap then collapsed onto the sofa across from her.  
  
"You.you went into my room?"  
  
"I was bored," Malfoy defended easily. "And I never pictured you as the purple knickers type. I always thought of you as belonging to the virginal white clique as far as panties were concerned."  
  
"I.you." Hermione's blush would have put a Weasley to shame. "Wait a minute, you've actually thought about my knickers?" Hermione asked him sharply when she was able to speak again.  
  
Malfoy flopped over onto his side, letting his hand drop to the ground to trace the Persian rug, "Granger, I'm a teenage boy, if you breathe and are female then I've probably thought about your knickers."  
  
"Really?" Hermione asked with a bit of interest, "everyone?"  
  
"Just about," Malfoy replied.  
  
"Well, what about Millicent Bulstrode, what does she wear?" Hermione felt an evil grin quirking at the corners of her mouth.  
  
Malfoy looked up at her suddenly, "that is truly foul Granger, truly."  
  
Hermione found herself laughing and stopped abruptly. She was not sitting in her parlor laughing over something Malfoy had said. It simply wasn't possible. Hermione had never been a fan of the surreal.  
  
"I had better go explain why I didn't come to breakfast," Hermione muttered aloud.  
  
"I told them that you had gone for a walk." Malfoy was watching her.  
  
"Why did you tell them that?" Hermione asked suspiciously, why would Malfoy cover for her?  
  
"Well you obviously didn't want them to know where you were going and I guess that I owed you one." Malfoy blinked large gray eyes in her direction and Hermione felt uncomfortable.  
  
"Thanks," she muttered before leaving the room.  
~*~*~*~  
Having Draco Malfoy in her house was nothing like Hermione ever would have dreamed. Maybe it was because he had been so spoiled his whole life or maybe because he had never needed to earn his keep but he seemed to relish settling down into the routine of the Granger's household. He read when Hermione read, he watched the telly when she did, he helped Hermione's mother set the table, he even helped Hermione wash the dishes after every meal. The cleaning was usually accompanied with some measure of complaining but only Hermione heard it. Malfoy was nothing if not a gentleman to her parents. And there seemed to be little that Hermione could say to convince them that Malfoy was as far from being a gentleman as it was possible to get.  
  
Hermione had learned to tolerate his presence. It had taken only a few cutting comments from her parents about her rudeness for her to learn not to insult Malfoy in their presence. And he didn't seem about to be leaving anytime soon.  
  
They didn't talk about that first night. She never mentioned the Dark Mark or Voldemort and he never cried over his mother again. Secretly they were each thankful to one another for this measure of silence.  
  
If her parents ever thought it odd that Malfoy had no belongings they never brought it up. Hermione figured that they hadn't noticed. They got very caught up in their work.  
  
It was on the fifth day of their strange household arrangements that the letters came. One to Hermione and one to Malfoy, each from Hogwarts and each considerably heavier than the usual supply letter.  
  
Hermione opened hers with shaking fingers, paying no attention to Malfoy who seemed to be cherishing his letter as much as her. She tilted the envelope up and a shiny button emblazoned with two large letters slid into her hand.  
  
"I'm Head Girl," Hermione whispered aloud hardly able to believe it.  
  
"So am I," Malfoy responded.  
  
Hermione looked up at him sharply.  
  
"Head Boy I mean, the girl thing is all yours." Malfoy was holding his own silvery badge in his hand, turning it to catch the light.  
  
"They made you Head Boy, really?" Hermione wasn't as surprised as she thought she should be. No matter how much of a prat Malfoy was to her and her friends he was excellent student. She knew that his marks were always just a few points below her own.  
  
"What, a Slytherin can't be Head Boy?" There was a familiar sharpness in his voice that hadn't been there for several days.  
  
"No of course they can, Voldemort was in Slytherin after all and he got to be Head Boy." Hermione bit her tongue but it was to late.  
  
Malfoy paled at the mention of Voldemort and he closed his hand so tightly over the button that Hermione was afraid it was going to break.  
  
"Malfoy," Hermione caught his attention quickly wanting to apologize, "Malfoy.congratulations."  
  
A little bit of color returned to his face and he smiled, not his usual smirk, something kinder and more human, "you too."  
~*~*~*~  
Hermione yawned sleepily and sat up pushing her dark blue bedspread down. The early morning light was shining across the floor of her room. She could see the distant Anglican steeple through her window. Her door opened and Hermione turned to it expecting to see her mother. Instead an annoyingly awake Malfoy flopped onto the bed by her feet.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" Hermione squealed as she scrambled away from him.  
  
"Oh come on Granger, you can't stay in here forever. Your mum is going to the, what did she call it? Oh yes, the supermarket, in a little bit. She said that we could go if you got up in time." Draco grinned at her.  
  
Hermione just stared at him without speaking for a moment. It was bizarre; her enemy was sprawled across the end of her bed acting as if they were friends. "You've gone mad haven't you?" She asked finally.  
  
Draco looked offended, "I'm just making the best of a bad situation Granger, and this muggle lifestyle is actually quite fascinating." He climbed off her bed and crossed the room to her desk and looked at her computer. "All this technology is very exciting."  
  
"I don't believe I'm hearing this." Hermione moaned and rubbed her temples "you actually like it here. How is that possible? You hate muggles, you hate me."  
  
"I hate Potter and Weasley, but you're not so bad. In fact," he paused and looked at her appraisingly, his gaze lingering on the length of thigh visible below her old nightshirt, "you've got some good things in your favor."  
  
"Oh! Oh you." Hermione tried to pull her shirt down farther while flushing scarlet. She gave up and grabbed the nearest thing to her, a book not surprisingly, and threw it at him. "You get of here!"  
  
Draco dodged easily but headed towards the door, "but what about the market?" He asked plaintively.  
  
"I'm coming! Just get out!" Hermione snapped at him.  
  
Draco smirked and slipped back out into the hall leaving Hermione to collapse back against her headboard in disbelieving frustration. After a moment she could hear her mother calling up the stairs to her and Hermione got out of her bed and began to prepare herself for what was already shaping up to be a very long day.  
~*~*~*~  
He certainly did seem to be enjoying muggle things. Hermione never would have dreamed that such a pure blooded Slytherin, an actual death eater, albeit one on the lam, could be so impressed with technology. He seemed especially attracted to the automated money machine outside of the grocers.  
  
"So you mean, all you have to do is type in some little code and this machine, which shares a brain with hundreds of others, just pops your money out for you?" He asked her mother excitedly.  
  
Draco was also very interested in her parents. He had been here a full week and a half now and he spent a great deal of his time listening to her father go on about the newest advancement in dentistry or those mad men in the Parliament. He was especially fond of following her mother around. He just seemed to bask in the motherly attention that had always belonged to Hermione. An outside observer might even go so far as to say that she was becoming a bit jealous.  
  
Hermione's parents seemed to be equally impressed with the young Slytherin. Maybe it was because Hermione already knew about all the progress in dentistry, or perhaps because she sometimes found the motherly affection smothering, but whatever the reason, they reveled in Draco Malfoy's presence, while Hermione was left to fume silently to herself over the unwelcome houseguest.  
  
She walked several steps behind her mother and Draco as they walked through the store. He would stop every now and then to run his hand across some brightly wrapped package or read the ingredient list with a mystified expression on his face as he wondered just what Thiamin Mononitrate tasted like. Hermione scowled at him and felt quite suddenly like a spoiled child disappointed that her parents had brought home a baby and not the puppy she asked for.  
  
A spasm suddenly went through him and his arm, that still held a thick bandage that was hidden under the sleeve of his shirt, tensed. Hermione frowned and stepped towards him but a voice called out, momentarily distracting them.  
  
"Dr. Granger! Oh Dr. Granger what a coincidence. Look kids, it's your dentist!" A dumpy looking woman with a litter of children was heading towards them.  
  
Hermione's mother sighed but then smiled and stepped towards the woman exclaiming, "Martha, how have you been?"  
  
"Some coincidence," Hermione muttered as she stood next to Draco, "that woman has never come in for a check up. She lays in wait for Mum. The grocers, the butcher, the park."  
  
And as they watched, Martha lined her children up so that Dr. Granger could examine each and every one in the middle of the store.  
  
"This might take a while dear," Hermione's mother called over her shoulder, "why don't you take Draco around the town?"  
  
Hermione nodded and she turned, not waiting to see if Draco followed, and walked out of the store.  
"Does it hurt?"  
  
Draco looked up at her in surprise. Hermione hadn't spoken a word to him after they left the store. He was sitting on a rusted bench that overlooked a duck pond in the small park that she had led him to. She stood, always certain to keep several feet between them, against the trunk of a great tree.  
  
"Does what hurt?"  
  
"The mark," she continued even though she saw his eyes darken angrily at being reminded of the cross he now had to bear, "I saw you tense in the grocers."  
  
He balled up his fists and glared straight ahead, "yeah," he replied finally, "it hurts sometimes."  
  
There was a broken period of silence before Hermione spoke again, before she asked the question that she had wanted to ask for quite some time now.  
  
"Why did you come to me?"  
  
He had been expecting this query, had been pondering an answer even before he descended upon the Granger's doorstep in a drunken heap, but he still wasn't quite sure how to put it.  
  
"I needed to go somewhere, someplace that my father wouldn't think to look. My dislike of all things muggle is fairly well known. He wouldn't ever consider that I would lower myself so much."  
  
Hermione's eyes darkened, "and how did I end up being the lucky hostess?"  
  
"You tutored Blaise in Ancient Runes last year." Draco responded quickly for it was obvious that his last statement had upset her. "He would have failed that whole semester."  
  
"But what does that have."  
  
"He told me that you didn't have to. That you were assigned to be a tutor, but that you got to pick who you helped." Draco paused and looked at his hands as they rested on his knees, "you were the only one that I thought would help me, not because you wanted to or expected something back from me, but because you knew that I needed it."  
  
Hermione sighed and finally moved to sit with him on the bench.  
  
"And," Draco suddenly added as and after thought, "your house was the closest one to the pub where I got my whiskey from."  
  
"You don't seem nearly as bad as I had thought," she said softly.  
  
"Well just because I want to vomit every time I hear about Prince Potter that doesn't mean that I'm an all around bad chap." Draco smirked at her. "So, shall you call me Draco now?"  
  
"Why on earth would I want to call you that?" Hermione asked sharply even though her eyes held a glint of amusement.  
  
"Well, that way I won't feel nearly so strange calling you Hermione, now will I?"  
~*~*~*~  
The time went by much faster with Draco in her house. Hermione still found it incredibly bizarre to wander down for breakfast every morning in her crumpled pajamas and find an equally tousled young Slytherin sitting sleepily before her, his chin resting in the palm of his hand while his near transparent eyelids fought to stay open. But they had settled into almost a routine that, as surprising as it was, turned out to be rather enjoyable for Hermione.  
  
Draco was very different from Ron and Harry. Unlike her friends he enjoyed talking about schoolwork. And there was very little in the world that Hermione would rather talk about. He was quick witted and funny in a sarcastic sort of way. Although she would adamantly deny it, Hermione found herself beginning to like the boy. They still fought of course, and it wasn't that she had forgiven or forgotten all of his past sins. But the summer was warm, Harry and Ron were far away, and Hermione hated to be lonely.  
  
But deep inside of her, she knew that this couldn't last. She didn't know how but she knew that things were going to be changing soon that something was going to be happening. Hermione could almost taste it on the air. She had been dreading it for days. This was why when she woke up late one night on the twentieth day of Draco's stay; she wasn't surprised.  
  
Hermione kicked her covers away and slipped off the bed. She stole stealthily across the room and out into the hall. A draft was blowing from somewhere and Hermione wished that she had taken the time to pull a sweater over the thin nightshirt that she was wearing. The draft dissipated and Hermione realized that it had come from downstairs, from the front door.  
  
A shaft of fear ripped through her. Hermione crossed silently to the guest room, the door was ajar, and Draco was gone.  
  
Hermione spun down the stairs, jumping the last step because its creak was loud enough to wake the neighbors. She opened the front door and snuck out into the night. The grass was wet, whether from dew or a late night rain Hermione wasn't sure. The moon had been hidden behind dark clouds and a flash of lightning flickered ominously. She stopped by a tall hedge at the end of their yard; she didn't see the hand that extended from its shadows to grip her shoulder.  
  
Hermione tried to scream but another hand clasped around her mouth.  
  
"It's me Hermione, don't scream." Draco hissed in her ear.  
  
Hermione relaxed and then twisted out of his arms. "What are you doing out here?"  
  
He was wearing his robes again. There was a glint in his eyes that reminded Hermione of that day so many months ago when he had attacked her. It wasn't a frightening look, just one of grim determination.  
  
"I'm going home." He said simply then looked away.  
  
Hermione didn't understand for a little while, she heard the words but they didn't make sense. "Home? What do you mean by home?"  
  
"Back to the manor, back to Lucius, I think I can make him understand that my leaving was a mistake, that I was just upset." Draco was talking to himself it seemed.  
  
"Why would you want to do that?" Hermione took a step back form him.  
  
"It burns," he pulled his sleeve up, "all the time. I can't stand it anymore."  
  
"So you're going to give up just because it hurts?"  
  
"No, I'm not giving up. Look, I can't explain it right now, I need more time." Draco took her arm pulling her closer, "I have to do this."  
  
"You're a stupid prat Malfoy," Hermione snapped angrily.  
  
"I know," he agreed and then he kissed her.  
  
Krum had kissed her before in her fourth year and Neville once last year but this was different. This was so different. It was warm and soft and he knew how to do it and it was gentler than she could ever have imagined Draco Malfoy being. And it was so obviously meant to distract her that it made her want to scream. But there was no one to scream at for the moment she pulled away he disapparated with a pop. 


	9. Draco has some Insight

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Author Notes: While I have the next two chapters written, I have done nothing in the way of preparing them to be posted, the darn things are littered with asterisks. In other words, I'm not sure when I'll be posting them, in a week or so I would imagine. And yes, since some of you have commented, the flashback chapters are much longer than the present ones. That is mainly due to the fact that the chapters that take place at Hogwarts usually cover several months while the chapters in the present cover no more than a day generally.  
  
Also.thank you so much to everyone that reviewed the last two chapters, the response was really overwhelming! (  
  
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Hermione stood without moving, staring at Sirius. She had stunned him. She had attacked him. There was a gut-wrenching pain in the pit of Hermione's stomach and she stumbled forward.  
  
"Sirius?" She kneeled next to him touching his arm, knowing that he couldn't respond, knowing that he was unconscious because of her.  
  
"Get away from him, Hermione."  
  
She had almost forgotten Draco. Hermione turned to him now, "help me get him inside."  
  
Draco didn't move he held his wand pointed at Sirius' chest. "Move; Hermione, I don't want to hit you."  
  
"You have to help me get him inside," Hermione felt tears catching in her already aching throat.  
  
"Get him inside? Why in the world would we want him inside? Get out of the way!" Draco's gray eyes were flashing.  
  
Hermione linked her hands around Sirius' arm and tried to lift him. She wasn't going to cry again, she wasn't going to let herself. "Help me!" She commanded to Draco yet again.  
  
"Don't tell me that this is some sort of left-over vestige of nobleness. The man is a murderer; he'll just go to Azkaban. I'd rather finish him off myself." Draco reached down trying to extricate Hermione.  
  
"He's not a murderer, please, he's one of us." Hermione's brown eyes pleaded with him and Draco, who hadn't been able to deny her anything in years growled and pulled her off of Sirius.  
  
"Mobilicorpus!" Draco muttered and Sirius' body rose off the ground.  
  
Hermione, who had feared the worst when Draco had pulled her from Sirius, visibly relaxed. "We need to get him inside before someone sees." She told him and the two entered the flat.  
  
Draco walked Sirius into the living room. As if reading his mind Hermione called after him as she stopped to lock the door.  
  
"On the sofa, please, not the floor."  
  
She turned the locks, warded the door, and followed after Draco. He had just deposited Sirius into an ungainly heap on the couch and was glaring darkly at the prone form. When Hermione approached he turned from Sirius.  
  
"Are you all right?" Draco hesitated then touched Hermione's cheek gently.  
  
Hermione wanted to smile, wanted to put on the face that would assure him that she was all right. But after Harry and Ron, no one knew her better than Draco Malfoy, even if the rest of the world thought they were mortal enemies.  
  
"I've been better." She responded softly.  
  
Draco nodded, "yeah, me too."  
  
His honest admittance brought a slight smile to her lips and Hermione let him pull her into a hug. Her cheek resting on the lapels of his perfectly tailored charcoal robes. She sniffled softly.  
  
"If you're going to cry, let me know and I'll give you a handkerchief, these robes are new." Draco kidded gently.  
  
"I am not going to cry you great prat." Hermione pushed back from him, her eyes defiant but amused. "Come on, I'll brew some coffee."  
  
Draco laughed, "right, and pigs will fly out of." He stopped as Hermione scowled.  
~*~*~*~  
"Why is he here?" Draco poured cream into his mug with well- manicured fingertips.  
  
Hermione pulled her eyes away from the living room. "He's Harry's godfather. He wants to know what happened to Ron and Harry."  
  
"You never told me about him." Draco said neutrally.  
  
Hermione studied him closely. His hair was just as pale as it ever had been in their days at Hogwarts. It hung loosely down covering his eyes. He wasn't looking at her now, only studying the fingers of one hand. Harry and Ron never missed a chance to mention how pale he was. But it hardly mattered; no one could deny that Draco had definitely grown into his looks. He was considered by many to be a highly eligible bachelor in the wizarding world. He was very rich and very successful. There was a constant bevy of lovely witches vying for his attention and Hermione had lost count of the number of engagement announcements that had appeared in the Daily Prophet, or the number of broken ones. He was normally cool and collected, his sharp wit was rivaled by very few. But Hermione could see through all of his masks.  
  
"It was a secret." She told him gently.  
  
Draco looked up her, "you know what he did, don't you? He killed Potter's parents."  
  
Hermione shook her head quickly, "no, no he didn't. It was Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"Pettigrew is dead Hermione." Draco's voice was sharp. "Black killed him along with a whole bunch of muggles, you know this."  
  
Hermione quailed inwardly, why had they never told him the truth? There had been reasons once but Hermione couldn't remember them now. She had done so much lying. "Peter Pettigrew isn't dead Draco. You've met him, many times."  
  
"Where would I have met him?" A touch of aggravation was creeping into his voice.  
  
"He's one of Voldemort's most faithful followers. He goes by the alias of Wormtail now. He helped Voldemort create a new body in our fourth year. He's the reason why Voldemort came back." Hermione bit her lip and looked away from Draco.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked in an expressionless voice.  
  
"I don't know why."  
  
It was true; Hermione didn't know why they had never told him. There were others that knew, and beyond Harry and Ron, she trusted no one as much as Draco. They had just gotten so caught up in their secrets. Tell only what is needed, no more. Secrets kept you safe.  
  
"I'm sorry," she apologized.  
  
He was watching her closely, "don't be sorry," he said finally. "It was probably better that I not know anyway."  
  
But neither of them believed that.  
  
"Why are you here?" Hermione asked suddenly having just remembered the most obvious of questions.  
  
"I wanted to make sure you were all right. Everyone knows that you have secluded yourself. You're lucky that very few people know where you live or else you would have a houseful of concerned visitors."  
  
Hermione smiled, "that's very considerate of you Draco. What is your other reason for being here?"  
  
"My deep concern for your well-being isn't enough?" Draco asked in mock insult.  
  
She had no trouble seeing through his attempt at humor. "What has happened?"  
  
Draco sighed softly, "the game is up I'm afraid." At Hermione's questioning look he elaborated, "Lucius has put things together about me. The unfortunate relocation of targeted families before they could be visited by Voldemort, the amazing luck of you three, I think he had been suspecting me of treason for quite some time now."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right." Draco reached across the table and took her hand in his own. "I don't think I would have wanted to carry on now that Potter and Weasley are gone. It seems almost pointless."  
  
"No!" Hermione pulled her hand away, "it's never pointless, don't think that. If you think that then Voldemort wins!"  
  
"Hermione, they're dead, he's already won."  
  
"You're wrong," Hermione retorted defiantly.  
  
A rueful smile appeared on Draco's face, "always the crusader."  
  
Hermione propped her elbow on the table then leant her chin into the palm of her hand. Soft brown curls hid her face. It was an old defensive technique. She knew what it was. It was so often easier to hide than stand strong and face the world. She wanted to tell him so badly. She wanted to ease the pain that was so plainly there. He would never admit to mourning their deaths. Draco would claim that he only helped them because of her. But he looked so broken. Hermione would have given anything to be able to grant him back his two favorite enemies.  
  
"Sirius should be waking up soon." Hermione said instead.  
  
Draco looked over his shoulder at the sofa where Sirius was still unconscious. "He isn't going to be pleased about my staying here."  
  
"You're staying where?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Didn't I mention that?" Draco smirked, "I need a place to lay low for a few days. Make Lucius think that I have already left Britain. It wouldn't be safe for me to leave now, he's watching all the apparating ports."  
  
"Yes, that does make sense."  
  
"He's just dying to crucify me for his Lord." Draco muttered.  
  
"I doubt that would be good for your complexion Malfoy." Hermione teased and was rewarded with another smile.  
  
"Go wake up your convict Granger."  
  
But it was too late for that. Sirius had already woken up. Hermione turned in her chair and found him staring at her, a look of betrayal painfully visible on his face. His eyes had never been darker. Hermione shivered in their depths.  
  
"You are a traitor." His words cut Hermione like nothing ever had before.  
  
She opened her mouth, trying to think of a way to explain, of a way to make him understand but his eyes wouldn't let her go.  
  
"No," Draco replied for her, "I'm the traitor."  
  
Sirius didn't acknowledge that Draco had spoken at all. He continued to stare at Hermione as if seeing her for the very first time in his life.  
  
But Hermione had heard Draco, and she found strength in his words, enough strength that she was able to speak. "I'm not a traitor Sirius. Draco is a spy."  
  
"How long?" Sirius demanded.  
  
Hermione finally broke the gaze and glanced over her shoulder at Draco, "since, since the beginning I suppose."  
  
"He's a Death Eater, Hermione!' Sirius pointed angrily at Draco.  
  
"She knows that," Draco replied evenly, "she was one of the first ones to know."  
  
"Harry, Ron, did they know?" Sirius asked as if he hadn't heard Draco speak.  
  
"Yes," Hermione answered, "they knew. Like I said, Draco has been spying on Voldemort for us for years. How do you think we've managed to be so successful?"  
  
"Successful?" Sirius' balled his hands into fists and spoke slowly trying to control his temper. "Hermione, they're dead!"  
  
Hermione stood so quickly that the chair fell backward. Both men were so surprised that neither said anything. "I know that they're dead. Why does everyone have this sick fascination in reminding me? I know that Harry and Ron are gone. I know that their rooms are empty. I know that we won't listen to the Cannons game on the radio tomorrow. I know that we won't be going to the Weasleys' for Christmas. I know this better than anyone else. Why must you all constantly remind me? What's wrong with you?" Her voice reached a pitch that made Draco wince and she stopped abruptly.  
  
"Hermione," Sirius reached out towards her but she stepped out of reach.  
  
"I'm going to make something for supper." Hermione glared darkly at Sirius, "if you cannot be civil I swear that I will hex you and leave you outside on the stoop to freeze. And you," Hermione turned to look at Draco, "do not aggravate him intentionally or you shall suffer the same fate. This is my flat, you are my guests, and I expect you all to show some common decency, it has been sorely lacking so far."  
  
Hermione stalked into the kitchen and there was no other sound for quite some time other than the angry banging of pots and pans.  
  
In the end, Hermione had ordered Indian food from the restaurant around the corner. She had never been very good at cooking. No matter how many times Harry told her that cooking was just like Potions, Hermione had never been able to make things taste right. Her spaghetti tasted like toast and her toast tasted oddly like peas. The only thing that she had ever been able to make and have it taste like it was supposed to was porridge. That did not sound like much of a supper.  
  
Harry loved tandoori chicken. Ron would treasure every bite of his curry. Hermione could eat couscous speckled with sun-dried tomatoes every day of her life. But neither Sirius nor Draco seemed terribly inclined to eat. Hermione doubted that it had anything to do with the food though. They refused to speak to each other. If they were dogs they would probably be marking their territory. Of course, Sirius could be a dog if he wanted. Hermione bit her lip hard to stop the giggle that wanted to escape as she pictured Sirius claiming her flat.  
  
"What's so funny?" Draco asked.  
  
Sirius just glared.  
  
"Nothing, just a bizarre thought, that's all."  
  
The rest of the meal was spent in grueling silence. After the dishes had been cleared away and the leftovers packed back into their Styrofoam containers Hermione set to work on the books she had acquired earlier that day. Her approach was analytical and structured as always. The books were outlined in a muggle notebook, the books were then sorted, the piles the arranged according to purpose. Her process required so many steps that it was quite late before she had even opened one of her knew books.  
  
"You're still working on the banishing spell?" Draco asked from over her shoulder.  
  
"She shouldn't be concerning herself with Voldemort at a time like this." Sirius said gruffly from where he leaned caustically against the other wall, his arms folded across his chest.  
  
Draco, who Hermione knew from his tone agreed with Sirius, scowled at the other man, "it's good for her to keep her mind off of things."  
  
"This is keeping her mind off of things? Spending all of her time reading about banishment spells?"  
  
"You have met Hermione before, haven't you? This is what she does, all the time, a bit of a bookworm in case you haven't noticed." Draco retorted.  
  
Hermione slammed her book shut and rose, "I am sitting right here."  
  
Both men looked rather repentant. But Hermione found that she was too tired to listen to their apologies and she waved them off.  
  
"I'm going to bed." Hermione walked towards her room then stopped, "Draco?" She asked.  
  
Sirius' scowl deepened and Draco sent him a triumphant look that Hermione would have seen even if she were blind. He crossed to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Really?" He asked.  
  
She knew that he was joking; it was a common ruse that he had often used to annoy Ron and Harry. But Sirius couldn't know that and the man visibly bristled.  
  
"He can't very well sleep in Ron or Harry's room, can he?" She asked Sirius gently, hoping to make him understand that it wasn't as it looked like.  
  
"He shouldn't be sleeping here at all." Sirius growled.  
  
"Neither should you," Draco told him coldly before walking into her room.  
  
Hermione appealed silently to Sirius to understand, to not make this into something that it wasn't but he had already turned his back to her and she was left with no choice but to follow Draco.  
She was staring at the ceiling. It was dark and shadowed but Hermione knew that in the day it was white with delicately scalloped plaster. She aught to be sleeping, Hermione knew that she was exhausted. Yet sleep was held at bay. Groaning softly Hermione rolled onto her side, the thick down comforter bunching around her body. She peeked her head over the edge of the bed and found herself confronted with a pair of eyes.  
  
"You are still awake." She told him stupidly.  
  
"How could anyone go to sleep with you tossing and turning like that?" He responded without bite.  
  
"I'm sorry." She muttered contritely.  
  
"You know Granger, you've got nice floors in this flat." Draco knocked on one with his hand, "good strong hardwood. I did mention the hard part, yes?"  
  
Hermione knew where this was heading, "Absolutely not Malfoy. I am not sharing my bed with you."  
  
"Oh come on, what do you need all that room for?"  
  
"It's a matter of principle." Hermione retorted.  
  
"I promise to keep my hands to myself, not that you'll want me to. No woman can resist my delectable presence." Draco told her candidly.  
  
Hermione snorted in disbelief, pulled the pillow out from under her head, and dropped it on his arrogant face. Draco caught it easily and chuckled.  
  
"Shh." Hermione hissed, "You'll wake up Sirius."  
  
"Don't worry," Draco tossed the pillow back onto the bed, "he's not sleeping."  
  
Hermione looked at the door, there wasn't any light shining from beneath her door. "How do you know that?"  
  
"I know because if he was in here and I was out there, I wouldn't be asleep either."  
  
Hermione rolled up onto one arm and looked down at Draco, "if the two of you are going to stay here then you need to stop feuding, it's getting on my nerves."  
  
Draco chuckled again, "Hermione, this has very little to do with me and a lot to do with you."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Her voice was sharp.  
  
Draco sat up in order to look at her better, "don't you know?"  
  
"Obviously not." She snapped.  
  
Draco smirked, "you are the most naïve girl that I have ever met." Even in the dark he could see her face begin to pink with indignation. "It's not a bad thing, I've always found it rather endearing to tell you the truth."  
  
Hermione laid back and stared at the ceiling again not responding. They were quiet for several minutes and Hermione thought that Draco must have drifted off to sleep. But he hadn't.  
  
"He's jealous," Draco's voice was low the amusement was missing.  
  
"Jealous," Hermione questioned softly, "of what?  
  
"I would think that it would be apparent." But Hermione didn't find it apparent so Draco explained, "he's jealous because I'm in here and he's not."  
  
"That's ridiculous." Hermione replied.  
  
Draco didn't say anything more. After a few minutes Hermione knew that he had fallen asleep. But Hermione still couldn't sleep. She wasn't sure what Draco had meant. There was the obvious meaning, but he couldn't possibly be right. Sirius saw her as little more than a friend of Harry's who he didn't quite approve of. She rolled over onto her other side, her hand reaching out to stroke the satin trim of the other pillowcase. With a muffled curse Hermione slipped silently off the bed. She had been suddenly overwhelmed with the urge for a glass of cold pumpkin juice.  
  
The doorknob was cool in her hand. It turned noiselessly. Hermione kept it charmed to keep it from squeaking. Harry was a notoriously light sleeper, and Hermione was prone to late night cravings. She started to pass through the doorway but stopped. Draco had been right Sirius was awake.  
  
The older man was sitting on the sofa across from her door; he was slouched forward, his elbows resting on his knees while his hands were clasped together in front of him, his eyes lost in contemplation. He became aware that her door had opened and from even across the room Hermione could see his eyes refocus on her. He stood hastily his eyes meeting hers. Hermione gasped at what she saw there, if only for a moment, it was a look of such want that it inspired an almost equal longing in her. But it was gone so quickly; Hermione found herself doubting it and her own reaction.  
  
"I.I wanted something to drink." Hermione told him feeling incredibly stupid.  
  
Sirius nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Hermione stood in the doorway of her room, her hands threaded together with a nervousness that she couldn't place. Sirius returned almost at once, a glass in his hand. He held it out to her and Hermione cautiously took it from his hand. Their fingers touched and Hermione pulled back abruptly, the pumpkin juice sloshing.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled looking away. She pulled back into her room, paused, then spoke again, "good night Sirius."  
  
"Good night Hermione." 


	10. Someone Else's Tragedy

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author Notes: Woo-hoo...new chapters! Sorry that I took so long to post but I had a lot of trouble writing the next chapter for some reason. Then there is always Inuyasha niggling at the back of my thoughts. However I do believe that Inu will be booted once the next book comes out. Anyhoo... you guys have really been leaving me some wonderful reviews! Thank you ever so much. Thanks to Vegeta who received and went over these in less than an hour. :) Oh...lots of Draco in the next couple of chapters...not as much Sirius unfortunately. *Sigh* But rest assured that our angsty hero will return!  
  
_______________________________________________________________-  
  
Hogwarts: Seventh Year  
  
It was a long train ride back to Hogwarts. Rain was thick and heavy against the windows. But it was hard to see the precipitation through the humidity-fogged glass. No matter how many charms were cast, the dampness couldn't be banished from their belongings. Hermione absentmindedly rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, the moist air making her muscles ache.   
  
Her shiny Head Girl badge glittered like a jewel on the lapel of her robe. Ron had made several snide remarks comparing her to Percy but they both knew that he didn't mean them. Hermione knew that they were pleased for her. Ron was desperately hoping that she would give a detention to Crabbe or Goyle. None of them mentioned Draco.  
  
There had been no word from the Slytherin boy and Harry and Ron had quickly realized that it was a sensitive subject for Hermione. She couldn't explain it, but she felt like she had failed him. Hermione couldn't help but replay the time that he had spent in her home. She looked desperately for something that she could have done differently. Something that would have made him stay. But there was nothing.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry's voice interrupted.  
  
"What?" She asked sharply, immediately regretting it.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be in the front of the train with the prefects?"   
  
She nodded, "for a little while."  
  
The two boys exchanged a look. Hermione sighed and got to her feet. They wanted to talk about her. It was so obvious it made her want to throw something. She didn't think it would be something negative. They were just concerned. Malfoy had up and disappeared while staying at her house and she had been visibly upset about it. They probably thought that something might have happened between the two of them. Harry and Ron almost certainly wanted to work out a plan on how best to break Draco's legs for interfering with their friend.   
  
"I am going now." She pulled her cloak on, not that she was cold but the clamminess in the train was beginning to have an affect.  
  
She walked the long hall towards the front of the train. She wasn't even sure if Malfoy was here. For all Hermione knew, he could be dead somewhere. But Hermione found herself doubting it. Draco had always struck her as a survivor. He had proven as much when he had taken to muggle life like a fish to water. But she couldn't help but worry.   
  
Hermione stopped, listening. From a nearby compartment she had heard a familiar drawl. Pulling the door open she smiled in relief for looking resplendent in perfectly tailored school robes was Draco.  
  
"Dra..." she began to say but he cut her off.  
  
"Oh look, it's mudblood Granger." He smirked cruelly at her.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle, with whom Draco was sharing his compartment, got to their feet.   
  
"Are you lost Granger?" Draco asked snidely, "I thought they kept the mudblood trash at the end of the train, we purebloods don't fancy your smell."   
  
Crabbe and Goyle laughed as if Draco had made the best joke ever. Hermione's hands clenched and she knew that a hot flush was rising up her cheeks.   
  
"Go to hell," Hermione hissed. Ron would have been proud of her language, and she spun back out of the room.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The first several weeks of school came and went with little excitement. Harry and Ron focused on securing the Quidditch Cup for the fourth time since they started at Hogwarts. Hermione hardly had time to miss their presence though. Being the Head Girl was more demanding than she had anticipated. There were rounds to be made, first years to guide, and meetings to attend.   
  
Hermione glanced back at the parchment in front of her and read, "Abigail Pruit, Hufflepuff prefect, wishes to make a complaint against Slytherin prefect Elric Afleburt." She looked across the table at a pretty sixth year girl with chestnut curls and gray eyes.   
  
The girl sprung to her feet and scowled down the table to where a boy sat next to Malfoy, a familiar smirk on his face.   
  
"Yes, I wish to register a complaint." The girl glanced at Hermione before continuing. "That Slytherin prefect has been taking an undue amount of points off of the Hufflepuffs." Abigail pointed an angry finger at the boy.  
  
Hermione looked at Elric, "you may, of course, defend yourself."  
  
Elric, who was an non descript as can be imagined with sallow skin and dull hair, didn't bother getting to his feet, "I have been taking points off of Hufflepuff, but I make rounds past their tower every Tuesday and Thursday night, and they are a rather disreputable group. They deserved to lose every point that I've taken off."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows slightly, Hufflepuff disreputable?   
  
"You liar!" Abigail was livid; "he took ten points off of Hannah Abbot yesterday for talking in the corridor!" She turned to Hermione, "you can't let him do that!"  
  
Malfoy chuckled. Hermione glared at him coldly. He hardly ever participated in these weekly meetings. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he thought they were a waste of his time.  
  
"Something that you want to add Malfoy?" Hermione snapped.  
  
Malfoy nudged Elric who stood finally.   
  
"I didn't take points off of that Hufflepuff girl because she was talking." Elric told them defensively.  
  
"Feel free to enlighten us then Mr. Afleburt" Hermione said when he seemed less than forth coming with an explanation.  
  
"Well you see there is this alcove near the Hufflepuff tower." Elric began but was cut-off by Malfoy.  
  
"Ahh...the lovers alcove, I know it well." There was a dreamy, nostalgic gleam in his eyes.  
  
Hermione snorted, "I would not be surprised."  
  
"You see," Elric was speaking again, "I didn't take points off of Hannah for talking, believe me, talking was the farthest thing from her mind."  
  
Hermione bit her lip to stop her grin as Abigail went white.   
  
"But then why did you say the points were taken for talking?" The Hufflepuff's voice was small.  
  
"Well," Elric looked uncomfortable, "it would have been rather embarrassing had they been officially taken off for snogging."   
  
Hermione studied Elric for a moment, that was a very un-Slytherin like thing for him to have done. Malfoy obviously thought so since he had taken to glaring at his prefect.   
  
Reshuffling her parchments, Hermione spoke again, "that should be enough for tonight. Abigail, you may want to keep a better eye on that part of the corridor. I'll be posting the new rounds on the door in case anyone forgets what day they are supposed to patrol. Meeting dismissed."  
  
The other prefects gathered their belongings and made a hasty retreat, there was only a half hour left in which to eat supper. Hermione took her time, however, carefully going over the list of items that she had meant to discuss, making sure that she had covered them all. Finally satisfied that she had, Hermione searched through her bag for the new patrol list. Slipping her backpack onto her shoulder she approached the door. A simple charm later and the list was attached firmly.   
  
"For a muggle-born, you've always been rather at ease with magic."   
  
Hermione turned quickly, Malfoy had returned to the room and was sitting on the edge of a table watching her.   
  
"What do you want?" Hermione asked firmly, ignoring the qualm of fear at being snuck up on.  
  
"Look I want..." He stopped abruptly because Elric had also returned.  
  
"Draco, I wanted to ask you..." The younger boy stopped though when he saw Hermione.   
  
"Do I make myself clear mudblood?" Malfoy sneered at Hermione. "If you have a problem with a Slytherin, you come to me, not them, understand?"   
  
Hermione didn't know what to say. She had absolutely no idea what he was going on about. He wasn't about to elaborate though. Malfoy gave her one more domineering glare before he swept out of the classroom, Elric trailing behind him looking rather apologetically at Hermione.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
  
  
"I told you that he couldn't help being evil." Ron said through a mouthful of potatoes and gravy.   
  
  
  
"There are some people who can't be saved," Harry's voice was gentler.  
  
"Neither of you know anything about it." Hermione snapped before getting to her feet. "It was very strange, it was as if there were two different people in him."   
  
Concerned, Harry asked her "Where are you going?"  
  
"Probably the library," Ron teased. "Or not," he added hastily as Hermione looked on the verge of decking him.  
  
"I'm just tired." Hermione replied letting her annoyance fade, it wasn't their fault she was in a foul mood after all. Hermione shot a glance at the Slytherin table to scowl at Malfoy but he was already gone. With renewed anger, Hermione trounced out of the Great Hall.   
  
Her defiant footsteps echoed through the silent corridor. Each angry step reverberated off the walls. Hermione pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her robes and scowled at the stone floors as she walked. She had really thought that he could change. That just went to prove how gullible she really was.  
  
Unnoticed hands emerged from a shadowed alcove to her right and quite suddenly Hermione felt herself yanked backwards into darkness, her scream cut off by a hand clenched over her mouth.   
  
"Shh, Hermione, it's me."   
  
Hermione knew that voice. She bit him anyway.   
  
Cursing, Malfoy released her. She spun to face him, her wand pointed determinedly in his direction. For his part, Malfoy took no notice of this as his attention was focused on his hand.  
  
"You bit me," he said in shock.  
  
Hermione spat as she realized the metallic tang in her mouth was blood. "You noticed?" Her voice was spiteful.   
  
He looked up at her, "Hermione..."  
  
"Don't you dare call me that!" She glared at him.  
  
"This is about earlier, isn't it? Look, I'm sorry about this cloak and dagger stuff but I wanted to explain." His gray eyes were pleading.  
  
A crashing sound from down the hall alerted them to the official ending of the dinner.   
  
"I can't talk about this here. Meet me tomorrow?" Malfoy asked her quickly, the sound of approaching footsteps making him nervous.  
  
Hermione was fighting an internal war. She had no reason to trust him. For all she knew, he was trying to lure her someplace where he could properly hex her. But for a few weeks over the summer he had been her friend. Hermione had never been able to deny her friends a chance to redeem themselves.   
  
"Where?"   
  
Draco relaxed slightly, "the fourth floor Arithmancy classroom, tomorrow at midnight." Before she could argue he grasped her arms, spun her around, and shoved her out into the way of the approaching throng of students.   
  
She tried to fight her way back through the crowd to the alcove, but Draco was already gone.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"You've been quiet all day." Harry said finally.   
  
Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework and studied Harry. She tried her best to look innocently confused but she doubted greatly that they were fooled.  
  
"Okay," Ron closed his Divination book, "what are you up to?"  
  
"Up to?" Hermione asked with false candor. "What makes you think I'm up to something?"   
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other and then her.   
  
"All right," She muttered in defeat, "I'm meeting Malfoy at midnight."  
  
"You're what?" Ron thundered, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the crowded common room. With a smart kick to his ankle from Hermione he went quiet.   
  
"He asked me to last night after supper, he wants to explain."   
  
"I'll bet he wants to explain." Harry said.  
  
"He deserves a chance," Hermione persisted.  
  
"No, he deserves a Dementor's Kiss." Ron growled vehemently.  
  
"Ron!" Both Harry and Hermione said in shock.  
  
Ron looked only slightly abashed. "Well, if not that then at least a good kick in the pants."   
  
"I don't think you should go." Harry told her firmly.  
  
"I'll regret it if I don't." Hermione said mournfully.  
  
"We could go with you," Harry suggested although Ron looked downright horrified at the thought. "We could wear the invisibility cloak, he'd never know."  
  
Hermione shook her head quickly, "no, no, he hates you as much as you hate him. If he finds out that you're there..." She let her voice trail off. They all knew that it wouldn't be good if Malfoy found Harry and Ron eavesdropping on their conversation.  
  
Ron groaned and slouched back in his red-velvet upholstered armchair, "I don't believe you're willing to risk your own safety on the mere chance that Malfoy may not hex you."  
  
"How is this, if I'm not back in an hour then you have my permission to kill him?" Hermione teased.  
  
Ron sat up, there was a sudden gleam in his eyes, "that's worth considering." He looked to Harry who nodded.  
  
"You had better take the cloak." Harry said.  
  
"I won't need it," Hermione replied, "Don't forget, I am the Head Girl."  
  
Ron shook his head, "That excuse won't work if you run into Snape."   
  
"All right then," Hermione relented as Harry agreed with Ron.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He was already there when Hermione arrived, he had left the door partially opened, and she slipped in silently. She didn't remove the invisibility cloak; she wanted a moment to ascertain that it wasn't some sort of trap. Malfoy appeared to be alone. He sat on a desk, his head bowed, and his hands clasped together. Hermione thought that he looked like he was praying.   
  
"Who's there?" He looked up. "I know you're there, even if I can't see you."  
  
Hermione pushed the hood back and his eyes focused on hers in surprise.  
  
"You have an invisibility cloak?"   
  
She shook her head, "no, it's..."  
  
"Potter's, of course, he would have an invisibility cloak." Malfoy slipped off the desk, "I wasn't sure if you would come."  
  
He was approaching her and Hermione stepped back, "you wanted to explain Malfoy, so explain."  
  
"I'm trying to," Malfoy stopped moving towards her. "You're afraid of me?"  
  
"Well I am alone in a classroom with a Death Eater, shouldn't I be afraid?"   
  
Malfoy shook his head, "not of me, Hermione. I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
"You did read the Death Eater manifesto before joining, didn't you? It's a little late to be making declarations of good will." She snapped, trying to ignore his soft words.   
  
"I didn't have a choice!" Malfoy defended.  
  
"Of course you had a choice!" Hermione snapped back, "You chose to let them brand you. You chose to lick the heels of Voldemort. You chose to go back to them!"  
  
"You don't understand," Malfoy was becoming very pale, "I didn't know what I was getting myself into."  
  
"That's a lie and you know it."  
  
"I was wrong, about all of it, I knew that the moment they marked me, the moment that my father...that my father killed my mother." Malfoy lowered his head.  
  
Hermione had to fight the urge to comfort him, "you didn't have to go back. You made the right choice to leave, but you went back Malfoy."  
  
He looked up quickly, "they would have killed me Hermione."  
  
She knew that it was true. But that didn't make it the better choice. "Then you have to live with your mistakes, don't you?"  
  
He didn't reply. Hermione watched as he sat back down on the desk. She wanted to say something, anything, but there weren't words for what he needed to hear. And finally, Hermione pulled the cloak back on and left the boy sitting very much as he had been when she arrived. Head bowed and hands clasped as if in prayer.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The time passed more quickly than Hermione could ever remember. It was probably because this was their last year in Hogwarts. But the days blended into weeks and then the weeks into months. The last of summer faded into fall, which died into winter.   
  
Hermione pulled her cloak tightly around herself and leaned forward in the stands as the Gryffindors cheered on their team. Ginny's arm was linked in her own and the two girls huddled together for warmth.   
  
"Harry gets better every game, doesn't he?" Ginny was breathless as Harry swooped towards the ground.  
  
Hermione nodded, "yes, he really is amazing."  
  
"Ron thinks he could play for England."   
  
Hermione thought about this, "he could, but I don't think he will."   
  
They rose to their feet along with the other Gryffindors as Hamish Lynch, one of their beaters, swung entirely off of his broom in order to stop a Bludger from making contact with a chaser. For a moment it seemed certain to the crowd that he was going to plummet to the ground but he had managed to maintain a tentative grasp on the straw and swung himself back onto his broom.  
  
"He's crazy," Ginny muttered, "starking mad that beater, his cousin too."   
  
"I know," Hermione grinned, "you would have thought all those bumps to the head by the Bludgers last year would have knocked some sense into them."  
  
The crowd settled and Ginny turned back to their conversation, "why wouldn't Harry try for England?"  
  
Hermione looked away, "I don't know why, it just seems like there are more important things to do first."  
  
Ginny nodded but it was obvious that she didn't understand what Hermione meant. This wasn't surprising since Hermione didn't quite know what she meant either. They had never talked about what they would do after Hogwarts. But it had seemed like an unspoken agreement that before they carried on with their normal lives they would have to take care of something else first. They would have to take care of Voldemort. Hermione didn't use to feel this way. But ever since the spell had linked them together, Hermione felt a deep need to stop Voldemort, to protect everyone else. She supposed that it came from Harry.  
  
"Look, there's Professor McGonagall." Ginny pointed at their Head of House as the older woman made her way through the stands. "What's she doing in the stands? Doesn't she normally stay in the announcer's box?"  
  
"Yes she does." Hermione answered.   
  
The two girls watched as Professor McGonagall crossed three rows in front of them. Their teacher stopped before the two Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis. Colin complained loudly as she blocked a good shot of the Ravenclaw Seeker. Professor McGonagall spoke to the boys and beckoned them to follow her. The brothers immediately began motioning to the game, obviously not interested in hearing whatever the Professor had to say until after the game had finished. Professor McGonagall seemed intent however, and the two boys followed her grumpily from the stands.  
  
"She looked a little pale, don't you think?" Hermione asked Ginny.   
  
The red-haired girl nodded. They probably would have discussed this in more length had the game not come to an abrupt victory for the Gryffindors as Harry looped through the Ravenclaw goal posts in order to catch the Snitch. The Gryffindors were on their feet screaming.   
  
"Gods he's good," Ginny breathed in admiration.   
  
Hermione smirked at the slight flush that reddened Ginny's cheeks as she watched Harry twirl around in triumphant.   
  
"Come on, let's go congratulate them before their heads get too swollen." Ginny said as she pulled Hermione to her feet and the girls headed down the stands.   
  
Pushing through the crowds they finally broke through to where the team was being cheered. Hermione and Ginny waved at Harry and Ron as the team were swept up onto the backs of the happy Gryffindors. The throng of students had just turned towards the school when Professor Snape's voice growled out over the Quidditch Pitch, the Sonourous charm magnifying the vicious sound.   
  
"The presence of the Head Boy and Girl, and all prefects is requested immediately at the Headmaster's office."   
  
Hermione's smile vanished. They were never all called to the Headmaster's office.   
  
"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked her.  
  
"I don't know." Hermione frowned as the rest of the school continued on as if Professor Snape requesting the prefects and Head Boy and Girl was a normal occurrence. "I will just have to catch up to the party later, save me a pumpkin pasty will you?"   
  
Ginny nodded and the two girls separated company at the entrance to the school.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
She didn't hear herself say the password to the common room but she must have for the concerned looking fat lady swung open for her anyway. Hermione stepped slowly into a room of brilliant happiness and felt sick.   
  
The common room was alive with the victory party. Two tables had been pushed together in the middle of the room and it was covered in every imaginable sweet. Butterbeer had come from somewhere and already a few first years appeared to have had one to many. The Lynch cousins were leading a spirited group of second years in a song that served no other purpose than to insult the Slytherins. Harry was talking animatedly to a rapt Ginny on the other side of the room while Ron had engaged in a friendly scuffle with Seamus and Dean. What caught Hermione's eyes however was a giant red banner that screamed 'Congratulations' in giant gold letters.  
  
"It has to come down." Hermione's voice was small and if anyone heard her, no one paid attention. "They'll be here soon."  
  
A passing fifth year tried to press a butterbeer into Hermione's hand but she jumped back.   
  
"It has to come down!" Hermione's voice was sharper now and people were taking notice.  
  
"Hermione!" Harry called out cheerfully, "we were wondering if you were ever going to make it to the party."  
  
"It has to come down now. Everything has to go."   
  
"Oh come on Hermione," This from Ron who was currently in a headlock administered by Dean, "Don't be like Percy and ruin everything."  
  
"You don't understand," Hermione's voice reached a shrill pitch, "they'll be here soon."  
  
And then Harry and Ron felt it. Her pure anguish had reached them through the elation of their success. Harry climbed over the couch while Ron twisted effortlessly out of Dean's grasp. Harry reached her first.  
  
"Hermione," he took her arm, "what's happened?"  
  
Ron was there only a fraction of a second later, "who's coming?"  
  
The party had stopped. Every eye in the common room was trained on Hermione who was as pale as alabaster.   
  
"Colin and Dennis," Hermione's eyes filled with tears, "Oh Harry, the Aurors found their parents this morning."  
  
Harry's arms were around her then and Hermione was thankful for without them she wouldn't have been able to stand any longer.   
  
No one spoke. No one asked any questions. The details didn't seem necessary. They didn't need to know that the Dark Mark still burned above the Creevey's Dover home. They didn't need to know that Colin and Dennis' father had tried to scare off the Death Eaters with an ancient rifle. They didn't need to know that as she died, Mrs. Creevey was thankful that at least her children were safe.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Rounds had to be made. That was the excuse Hermione had given Harry and Ron after the party had disappeared. There wasn't anything that she could do for the Creeveys herself and she needed to patrol. But the Headmaster hadn't expected any of the prefects to patrol that night. There were deaths to be mourned. But Hermione couldn't stay in the silent common room. It had never been this quiet before, not even during the Holidays when it emptied to just a handful. Hermione could no longer handle the pale students or the guilty looks of relief that it had been someone else's family.  
  
It was just as quiet outside of the common room. But Hermione could already breathe easier. The windows were all closed tight against the cold. She wasn't concerned with her footsteps as they echoed around her. Anyone sneaking around the school would be alerted to her presence but that was what Hermione was hoping for. She doubted very much that she could stomach an encounter with anyone at the moment.   
  
There seemed to be no one out of his or her common rooms that night. Hermione prowled down one flight of stairs and then another. There were no furtive noises from any of the corridors. Hermione didn't even come across Mrs. Norris. She had just decided to go back, to do the responsible thing as Head Girl. But the thought of the oppressive common room made Hermione sway on her feet and she sat down heavily on the top step of the main stairway. She let her curly head lean against the granite banister and she closed her eyes. The chill of the stone cooled her too warm cheek. Hermione was perfectly content to spend the rest of her life in this one spot.   
  
Cautious noises made her raise her head.   
  
From the far door way on the floor below her someone had emerged. Hermione strained her eyes in the darkness wondering who this could possibly be. The figure moved about aimlessly coming to stop finally at the base of the stairway, one hand settling upon the banister. As he stepped into the light of a low floating candle Hermione recognized him. Malfoy couldn't see her where she sat so far up the stairs that the shadows from the corridor behind her engulfed her. He turned suddenly and bolted through the front doors. Hermione was torn for only a moment before she too followed quickly into the night.  
  
The door closed behind her and Hermione looked for Malfoy, finding him only a few feet away, hunched over on the grass. From the sounds he was making, he was being violently ill.  
  
Hermione watched Malfoy's back as he retched on the ground. His shoulders were quaking. Feeling pity, Hermione conjured a glass of water. It floated over to him and settled carefully on the ground next to his hand. He turned his head to look at it as if not understanding what he was seeing. Malfoy finally sat back and turned to look at her.  
  
"Hermione," he was surprised.  
  
"You shouldn't be outside without a cloak Malfoy," Hermione told him tiredly not caring that she was nagging.  
  
Malfoy drank from the glass of water, coughing once. "I couldn't breathe inside." He muttered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
Hermione leaned against the large wooden door, her eyes moved away from him and she studied the moon setting over the forbidden forest.   
  
"I didn't know," Malfoy said suddenly.  
  
Hermione shrugged her shoulders without looking at him, "what would you have done had you known?"  
  
"I...I would have told..." Malfoy sounded like he was trying to convince himself.  
  
"Who would you have told Draco?" Hermione twisted his name cruelly, "Snape? The Headmaster?"  
  
"No!" Malfoy practically shouted and Hermione looked at him in surprise. "I would have told you."  
  
"Why?" There was no malice in her voice.  
  
Malfoy got unsteadily to his feet and came to stand next to her. "I don't know why." He leaned against the door and they stood watching the trees together. "It could have been your parents." He said finally.  
  
"I know," Hermione brutally wiped at a tear.  
  
Malfoy procured a white silk handkerchief from a pocket and held it out to her. She smiled slightly and took it front him, using it to carefully blow her nose.  
  
"If I ever do know anything," his voice sounded much further away than it was, "I'll tell you." 


	11. Sirius' Departure

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
Author notes: This chapter is very short. I'm sorry. But the reason why it has taken me so long to post was because of this stupid little chapter. I just couldn't get the darn thing out for some reason.   
  
_______________________________________________________  
  
Sirius was scowling. Not that his expression was surprising in any way, he had looked exactly the same every time Hermione had risked a glance at him that entire morning. If it wasn't for the fact that every now and again a low rumbling sound of disapproval would emanate from him Hermione could have mistaken him for a statue. The man had hardly moved at all since breakfast, since Hermione had started working again, since Draco had begun helping her. Sirius watched them closely, standing in what must be his favorite stance with back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing muggle clothes today, loose jeans and a black sweater; Harry's clothes.   
  
Hermione turned back to her books with a sigh. She didn't understand how any one man could be so disagreeable. Not that Draco was helping matters at all. Hermione was almost certain that he was trying to antagonize Sirius on purpose. Draco seemed to know just what buttons to push. In fact, Hermione realized belatedly, that he was pushing one now.  
  
"Here, look at this passage. It's Muggle, but the ideas are interesting." Draco had risen from his seat and come around to stand next to her, placing an opened book in front of her.   
  
Hermione leaned over the book, which was devoted to Tibetan Reincarnation beliefs, and read the passage that Draco was pointing to. His other hand rested at the small of her back as he leaned over with her.  
  
Hermione froze, her brown curls barely touching the book that she was bent over. Draco's hand seemed to be slipping lower. She looked at him through her curtain of hair and found that he was smirking. He wasn't doing what she thought he was doing, was he? There was a gentle squeeze and Hermione groaned inwardly.   
  
She glanced back at Sirius, hoping beyond hope that he had somehow missed their little exchange. But as always, he stood there, glaring at her. If he was in his animagus form, Hermione was certain that he would be growling. Hermione scowled at Draco who was trying to look innocently puzzled but failing miserably.   
  
"You are such a child," She hissed knocking his hand away.   
  
Draco couldn't stop his laugh as he took the book back from her. He turned towards Sirius, "you could help you know. This would probably go faster with another pair of eyes."  
  
Hermione hadn't expected a reply from Sirius so when his gravely voice echoed menacingly through the flat she dropped the book that she had opened.  
  
"I have no intention in participating in this waste of time." His voice was dark with barely restrained anger. "There are more important things to worry about right now."   
  
Hermione swiveled to glare at him, "More important things? What is more important than stopping Voldemort?"  
  
Sirius pushed himself away from the wall, taking a step towards her, "Didn't you pay any attention to the paper this morning? Rumors are spreading Hermione, people want answers and you're not giving them."  
  
Hermione frowned at him before turning back around. She didn't really feel like having this conversation yet again.   
  
Draco, meanwhile, snorted. "I read that article, written by Mavis Skeagle, she's such a worthless hack. You know, once she wrote a story questioning my sexual preference." Draco smiled to himself, "that is, of course, why I now own half of the Daily Prophet."  
  
Sirius completely ignored Draco as he took another step towards Hermione, "You've got to be honest. Hermione, you have to tell me what happened."  
  
Hermione stiffened, unwilling to turn around, unwilling to get into this fight again. And as it turned out, Draco was completely comfortable in coming to her defense.  
  
"Are you telling me that you actually think that the rumors are true?" Draco's voice was incredulous.  
  
"There is something that she isn't telling us." Sirius growled at the younger man without looking at him.  
  
Draco's hand clenched into fists and Hermione could hear him suck in a deep breath. "Are you insane? You're talking about Hermione."  
  
"I can tell when people are lying." Sirius glared at Draco now. "I know that she's lying."  
  
"Draco, don't." Hermione reached out to place a placating hand on his arm. "Don't get into it with him. It isn't worth it."  
  
"You don't know her at all do you?" Draco asked him as he pulled loose from Hermione and walked towards Sirius.  
  
Sirius advanced to meet Draco chest to chest in the middle of the living room. "She won't say what went wrong."   
  
Draco glared at the taller man, "I'm telling you," a note of warning in his voice, "that she doesn't know what went wrong."  
  
It almost certainly would have led to a very physical fight if Hermione hadn't interjected herself between them. One of her delicate hands placed firmly on their chests, she pushed them back form each other.   
  
Turning to Draco she caught his hand in her own, "It doesn't matter, Draco, it really doesn't. It's just another reason for him to hate me. Just let him have it. All I want is to not talk about it anymore."   
  
Draco scowled over her head at Sirius but nodded finally.   
  
Hermione turned her attention to the older man now but whatever words she was going to say to calm him got lost somewhere in throat.   
  
Sirius looked at if she had just hit him. His dark eyes were widened in surprise and his skin was unnaturally pale. Hermione frowned at him, what she had said to Draco may have been a bit harsh but it was the truth after all, wasn't it?   
  
"Just...just let me work in peace, won't you Sirius?" Not waiting for his answer, Hermione turned back to her desk.  
  
She could feel his hot gaze against her shoulders for several minutes before he turned away. Hermione twisted her head slightly, watching him from underneath the fringe of her eyelashes. Sirius pulled his decrepit traveling cloak out from under a stack of books then headed out of the flat. Hermione followed after him in surprised alarm.  
  
"Sirius!" She called as she rushed through the door, "Sirius wait!"   
  
She reached the top of the stairs; he was at the landing below, staring hard at the ground. Hermione shivered at the winter chill in the hall of her building and wrapped her arms around herself. Sirius wasn't looking at her. He made no moves to walk back up the stairs to her.  
  
"Wh...where are you going?" Her voice was small.  
  
"I'm letting you work Hermione." His black eyes met hers for only a second before he turned on his heal and walked down the next flight of stairs.  
  
Hermione watched his retreating back as long as she could before he turned down the next flight of stairs and disappeared from view. She stood waiting for the sound of the old front door to creak open, the frosted hinges groaning more than usual, and then for rush of air that always whisked up all three floors of the building as the door pulled itself closed.   
  
He had left. Sirius was gone.  
  
"Don't worry, he'll come back."  
  
Hermione tried not to act surprised as Draco spoke. But were the truth to be known, she hadn't heard him follow. Ron and Harry would be sorely disappointed in her awareness skills.   
  
"Why do you say that?" She asked without turning to look at him.  
  
He came to stand next to her, arms crossing loosely over his chest, gray eyes focused on some distant point that she couldn't discern. "He won't leave you here with me. He doesn't trust me."  
  
Hermione turned to him, "thank you for sticking up for me back there."  
  
"I can't even believe that he thinks you might have been involved in their deaths. The man is an idiot." Draco ran a hand through his hair, messing the light gold strands so that they fell awry.   
  
"He's not," Hermione defended, surprised at her own words. "He's just worried."  
  
Draco turned back towards the flat, "well he's being very stupid about it. If he knows you at all then he should know how stubborn you can be. You'll tell us when you're ready and nothing will force it from you sooner."  
  
Hermione had fallen into step with Draco but she froze as he said this. He stopped walking a pace ahead of her and turned to look back at her from over his shoulder.  
  
"Tell you what?" Hermione whispered.  
  
Draco frowned, "Don't be like that, I know you had nothing to do with their deaths. But Black is right about one thing, you are hiding something."   
  
"I...I'm" Hermione began quickly but was cut off as Draco covered her mouth with his hand.  
  
"No more lies Hermione. If you can't tell me, then don't tell me, but don't lie to me anymore. All right?" Draco didn't remove his hand until Hermione nodded her head. 


	12. A Rescue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.  
  
Author Notes: SLIGHT OotP spoiler here!   
  
I got a fairly over-whelming response after my last update. Thank you so much! I am deeply dismayed by the events in the 5th book and I'm not certain if I'll continue with this fic or not. I personally do not like AUs and I have a hard time imagining myself writing one. These two chapters were written the week before the book came out and I never got around to editing them. Well after all the reviews that I received urging me to go on despite what happened I decided that I should at least put out these two chapters. But don't take this in a "review-or-I-won't-write" sort of way; I just don't know if I even want to continue now, I'm a little heart broken. :( So as for the fate of this fic....we'll just have to see I suppose.   
  
A: As the author I just wanted to point out that I have thus far refrained from making one of those lame-ass Sirius jokes.  
  
SB: What jokes?   
  
A: You know, the one where someone says "now be serious!" and you go...  
  
SB: But I'm Sirius.  
  
A: . . . . I hate you.  
  
SB: chuckles evilly  
  
______________________________________________________  
  
  
  
"There's a letter," Harry announced as a non-descript owl landed before him nearly upsetting the pitcher of cream.   
  
Hermione looked up over the edge of her Daily Prophet at Harry who was unfastening an envelope from the leg of a dull brown owl. Ron paused in mid-bite to watch.  
  
"It's from Snuffles," Harry said quietly.  
  
Hermione immediately folded up her paper while Ron began to pile toast onto a napkin. They made as hasty an exit as they could without attracting too much attention from the rest of the Gryffindors who were enjoying their breakfast. They stopped indecisively outside the main hall torn over where to go.  
  
"The common room will still be busy." Harry said finally, "let's go outside."  
  
"We don't have much time before Potions," Hermione warned them as they left the school.  
  
They eventually ended up in the Quidditch stands, high above the ground with a good view of the school. They would be able to see anyone approaching. Ron unfolded the toast and set it on the seat in front of them. Hermione cast a quick warming charm over them to fight off the bitter cold. Harry removed the letter from his pocket and began to read.  
  
"Dear Harry and Ron"  
  
Harry stopped abruptly and looked at Hermione. For her part, Hermione was trying very hard to look as if she was unconcerned that she been pointedly left out.   
  
"Well go on," Ron prodded Harry.  
  
Harry continued.  
  
"I don't have much time to write so I'll make this quick. I am grieved to hear about the Creeveys. This means that it really has begun. Voldemort has become very brave if he is willing to make such a crude show of power in front of Dumbledore.   
  
I don't care what Fudge says, he's an idiot, Britain is no longer safe. I wouldn't even go so far as to call Hogwarts safe given past occurrences. I do not want any of you leaving the grounds. Stay together when you're in the school. Do not go walking alone, there may not be any Death Eaters hiding in the school this year, but their children are. Now I realize that none of you are going to listen to me, so I've decided to come back to England.  
  
I'll send you word when I've returned. And for God sakes boys, keep your heads down and your ears open. Oh, please give my regards to Hermione as well.  
  
- Sirius"   
  
Hermione flinched as Harry finished the letter. Regards? She wished that she hadn't been mentioned at all. It would be better to think that Sirius had somehow forgotten her rather than that he had thought of her but felt she warranted as much concern as her Great Aunt June.  
  
"Did you get into a fight with Sirius?" Ron asked, being a bit more perceptive than usual.  
  
"No," Hermione sighed reaching for a piece of toast, "no we were getting along fine last year. I thought we were friends."  
  
Harry looked as if he had thought of something but he shook his head decisively and reread the letter to himself. "He shouldn't be coming back here. It isn't safe."  
  
"I imagine that he's more concerned with your safety than with his own." Hermione comforted.  
  
Harry groaned and crumpled the letter. "I never should have told him about Colin and Dennis' parents."  
  
"Yes you should have," Hermione snapped.  
  
"He would have found out anyway." Ron agreed. "The Daily Prophet delivers to Japan."  
  
"The Daily Prophet said that the deaths were caused by a few remaining supporters who had gotten nostalgic for the glory days." Hermione recited, remembering the idiotic article well.  
  
"He Who... Voldemort," Ron said slowly, "is going to destroy the Ministry at this rate."  
  
"No he's not," Harry's voice was sharp and determined, "we're not going to let him."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione was thankful that the holidays were over and that school had recommenced. Christmas had come and gone with very little fanfare. The deaths of Colin and Dennis' parents had hovered like a shade above what was generally a very happy time. Most students stayed at the school. There was never anything officially said but Hermione believed that the Headmaster had convinced most parents that the safest place for their children was in his school. So the corridors had stayed crowded through the festivities. But now there were other things to think about besides the deaths. The professors seemed to be using homework as a means to keep every one's minds off of darker things.   
  
She sat on a stool next to Harry and Ron, absentmindedly thumbing through her Potions homework. Four feet of dissertation on the numbing effects of Bamboo extract. Harry and Ron had been stricken at the very thought of so much writing, but really, once they had gotten started they hadn't minded so much.   
  
Professor Snape was running late. It was unlike him. She looked around the classroom wondering if anyone else had noticed. Malfoy was watching her. She met his eyes questioning. Without breaking eye contact he got to his feet and began walking down the row towards her. She noticed a flash of white in his hands. He looked away a few feet from her and Hermione thought that he was going to go on past her but instead he kicked her bag.   
  
She had left it sitting on the floor, not tucked under her stool like she normally did but leaning against the leg of the table. He caught the strap with his foot and kicked it; knocking the bag over and spilling it's contents.   
  
"Hey!" Hermione cried indignantly getting to her feet.  
  
Malfoy spun on her, roughly grabbing her arm, "why don't you watch were you put your stuff you stupid..."  
  
"Is there a problem Mr. Malfoy? Potter? Weasley?" Snape's icy voice echoed through the silent class.  
  
Harry and Ron had gotten to their feet at Hermione's shout and both of them had wands pointed at Malfoy.   
  
"I was just telling Granger that she should be more careful with her things." Malfoy released Hermione's arm and strolled leisurely back to his seat.  
  
Hermione scowled after him. He had done it intentionally. And to think that only a few weeks ago she had been comforting him over the deaths of the Creeveys. Hermione squatted down and shoved her books back into her bag none too gently. It was only when she had sat back down and reached into her pocket for a quill did she find the note.   
  
Cautiously she opened it with one hand under the table, the other hand diligently taking down the ingredients that they would need for the day's potion. When she adjusted her Potions' book to the right page, she slipped the note onto the table for the fraction of a second that she needed in order to read it.  
  
"I know something. Meet me at Greenhouse 2 after class."  
  
Hermione reread it once before slipping it back into her pocket. After a few moments she risked looking back over her shoulder at where Malfoy was sitting. He was waiting. He raised an eyebrow and she nodded slightly. Malfoy then sneered at her before looking back at his Potion.   
  
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand; it was shaping up to be a very long day.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The greenhouse was hot and steamy. Water clung to the air and Hermione felt the dampness even through her thick winter robe and cloak. Row upon row of greenery covered the floors and hung from the ceiling. He was already there. How he had beaten her there she wasn't sure. But he stood far in the back under the fronds of a carnivorous palm tree.  
  
"You should be careful," Hermione said, "that tree almost ate Neville last week."  
  
"Well, Longbottom is an idiot. And anyway, this tree just had lunch."   
  
Hermione didn't have nearly as much faith in the tree and she stopped several feet away and pulled herself up onto one of the dirt-covered tables that they used for repotting. "You know, the next time you want to send me a note why not just use an owl?"  
  
"No one would notice you getting cryptic messages from an owl every few days?" Draco leaned dangerously close to the tree.   
  
"Because berating me in Potions is normal." Hermione frowned, "okay, I'll admit that it is normal. But I don't like it very much."  
  
Draco grimaced, "I have to keep up my cover."  
  
"You sound like a spy from some movie." Hermione quipped.  
  
"I think I am a spy." Draco told her softly.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, "you're really in a lot of trouble aren't you?"  
  
"Trouble is my middle name, Draco Trouble Malfoy, that has a nice ring to it don't you think?" Draco grinned cheerfully.  
  
"A nice ring if you're staying in St. Mungo's." Hermione agreed.  
  
"Stay away from Snape," Draco said suddenly.   
  
"Why?" Hermione asked although she knew the answer already.  
  
Draco pushed his hands into his pockets and turned away from her, studying a row of stinging nettles, "he was there, at the meeting."  
  
"Oh," Hermione replied, of course Draco didn't know that Snape had been a spy for Dumbledore, and Hermione wasn't going to tell him either, the less people that knew, the better. "Is that all that you wanted to tell me?"  
  
"I don't know very much," Draco wasn't looking at her, he seemed very focused on what he was saying as if it was taking every bit of moral fiber that he had to be so forth coming with something that he would rather never talk about again.   
  
Hermione folded her hands together silently; she wouldn't push him if he didn't want her too. She knew from experience with Harry that you couldn't make someone relive something painful unless they wanted to.   
  
"It's really awful, you know?" It was a rhetorical question and Draco didn't bother waiting for an answer, "it was over the Holidays, at the Manor, at my house. They all came, just like the good little dogs they are. He was there of course, the Dark Lord, he's really scary. Have you...?" He didn't have to finish his question.  
  
"No," Hermione said quickly, "no, I've never seen him but Harry has."  
  
"I hope you never see him," Draco said so softly that Hermione almost didn't hear him.  
  
Hermione fingered the fringe of her red and gold striped scarf that had settled over her knee when she sat. She didn't respond; there didn't seem to be anything to say.  
  
"They're not to fond of Snape though," Draco explained. "Used the Cruciatus on him until he passed out. Not that I minded, I can't believe that dirty bastard is my head of house."  
  
"He has been looking very pale since Christmas," Hermione mused aloud, ignoring Draco's insult.  
  
"They're planning on attacking a Ministry office in Manchester." Draco said hurriedly almost afraid that if he didn't speak fast enough he wouldn't be able to speak at all, "Voldemort doesn't like that the Ministry is ignoring him. He wants people to know that he's back, he wants them scared." T  
  
Hermione slid off the table and approached him quickly, "Draco, you have to tell Dumbledore."  
  
Draco looked at her resolutely, "I won't."  
  
"What?" Hermione grabbed his arm, "why not? You can't let Voldemort kill those people, not if there is something that you can do about it."   
  
  
  
"They would send me off to Azkaban."   
  
"They wouldn't, the Headmaster wouldn't let them." Hermione pleaded.  
  
"You forget that I'm a Slytherin, it's not the same for us. I can't just walk up to the Headmaster and go 'Sir, I joined the Death Eaters over the summer but as it turns being a homicidal ego-maniac just doesn't work for me very well, can I come spy for you?' Dumbledore would hand me right over to the Dementors." Draco pulled his arm out of Hermione's grasp and leaned against the tree.  
  
"You would be surprised," Hermione replied thinking of Snape.  
  
"This is the best that I can do." Draco muttered. "It is up to you now."  
  
"That's not fair," Hermione scowled at him and crossed her arms in a position very similar to his own, "you know that I have to tell the Headmaster. I can't let people die if I can stop it."  
  
Draco smiled then, not his usual smirk but a soft wistful smile, "why do you think I told you. Only... only don't tell them that I told you."   
  
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and groaned softly, "Draco..."  
  
He stepped towards her and pulled her hands free from the tangle of tendrils. "Promise me, please."  
  
"All right, I promise that I won't tell the Headmaster. But I can't keep this from Ron and Harry, you know that, don't you?"   
  
Draco let go of her hands and stepped back to lean against the tree again, "you had better go, classes will be starting in a few minutes."  
  
Hermione looked at her watch, glared at him, and then spun out of the greenhouse. Would it have been asking too much to have just one normal school year?  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Might I be able to interest you in a piece of candy Ms. Granger?" The Headmaster motioned towards a crystal cut bowl of brightly colored red sweets.  
  
"N...no thank you Headmaster." Hermione stuttered nervously.   
  
Harry and Ron had wanted to come with her. They had all agreed that the best course of action was to go straight to the Headmaster with Draco's news. But she insisted that they stay in the common room. The Headmaster would be suspicious, rightly so, and Hermione didn't see any reason for all three of them to be in trouble. So Harry and Ron stayed behind while she went to the Headmaster's office. But now that she sat here before the patiently waiting Headmaster, Hermione wondered why in the world had she made her friends stay behind.  
  
"What was it that you wanted to speak to me about my dear?" Dumbledore prompted kindly.  
  
"I..." Hermione stopped again biting her lip there seemed very little point in stalling, "Voldemort is planning on attacking the Ministry offices in Manchester."  
  
Time passed slowly as the Headmaster watched Hermione closely, she couldn't be sure but at the mention of Voldemort's name his eyes had seemed to darken. Hermione shifted nervously in her seat.  
  
"How do you know this?" Dumbledore asked her, his voice maintaining the gentle tone.  
  
"I was told." Hermione whispered.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, turned in his chair and threw a handful of glittering blue powder into the fireplace to his right. The flames sparked angrily before turning silver.   
  
"Severus," Dumbledore's voice was clear, "I need to speak with you now."  
  
His attention turned back to her once more. He sighed and then pushed the bowl of candy closer to her, "Please take a piece of candy Ms. Granger, you look rather pale."  
  
Hermione reached out, pretending not to notice the tremors in her hand as she placed a fire-red candy in her mouth.  
  
It took Professor Snape a surprisingly short amount of time to reach the Headmaster's office. Hermione supposed that he must have been in the dungeons by the strong smell of sulfur that accompanied him but he appeared through the door only a few minutes after being summoned. The Potions master approached quickly but silently, his black robes billowing out behind then draping back around him when he stopped before the Headmaster's desk, a little in front of Hermione whom he didn't even acknowledge.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster?" He asked in that low voice that made even aurors shiver.  
  
"Ms. Granger," Dumbledore motioned towards Hermione in case Snape had missed her, "has some interesting news about Voldemort."  
  
"Does she?" Professor Snape turned eyes as cold onyx in the wintertime on her. "I would certainly be interested in whatever gossip has reached Ms. Granger's ears."  
  
"Please repeat for Professor Snape what you told me," Dumbledore asked her kindly.  
  
Hermione nodded, twisted her hands together nervously while she studied the ground and spoke, "Voldemort is planning on attacking the Ministry in Manchester."  
  
Professor Snape laughed harshly, "What makes you think that Voldemort would make such an insane move against the Ministry?"  
  
Hermione frowned at her professor, her nerve was returning, "he doesn't like being ignored. He wants the Ministry to admit that he has returned, force our world into a panic."  
  
"Oh really?" Professor Snape leaned towards her his hands fastening on the arm rests to either side of her, "what makes you think that you know more about the plans of Voldemort than I?" Snape pushed back from the chair and turned back to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, why have you brought me here? This is a complete waste of time, this girl knows nothing."  
  
"He punished you," Hermione said softly looking away.   
  
Snape stopped his tirade and turned to look at her his voice no more than a menacing whisper, "what did you say?"  
  
"He performed the Cruciatus curse on you until you passed out." Hermione risked a quick look at her professor he had gone white. "That's why you don't know."  
  
Hermione bit her tongue a moment to late as Snape stepped back in shock and the Headmaster rose to his feet. Hermione wished that she could melt into the chair as the two men stared at her as if seeing her for the very first time.   
  
"How do you know this?" Snape stepped towards her menacingly, "you couldn't possibly have been there."  
  
"I wasn't, I wasn't there," she tried to assure them quickly.  
  
"Who told you then?" Snape leaned over her his hands once again clenching the armrests of her chair. He leaned so closely to her that his lank black hair hovered only an inch above her face.  
  
"I can't tell you." Hermione replied sinking farther back into the thick velvet.  
  
"Can't tell us? There are ways that we can make you tell us." Snape hissed, his eyes dangerous.  
  
"Please Headmaster," Hermione called out though she could no longer see Dumbledore because Snape was blocking the way, "please I promised, I can't tell you."  
  
She couldn't tell them anyway, even if she hadn't promised. She had told Harry and Ron. They had made it their own secret. Unless the Headmaster was willing to use some very extreme measures, Hermione didn't think they would be able to drag the truth from her.   
  
"Professor Snape," Dumbledore's voice was just as soft and gentle as it ever was, "please allow Ms. Granger to stand, she will be late for her dinner if she stays with us much longer."  
  
Relief flooded Hermione even as Snape looked down at her with murder in his eyes. He let her push past him. She snatched up her bag and backed up towards the door.  
  
"Ms. Granger, thank you for your information, if you ever hear anything more, please do not hesitate to come to me." The Headmaster was smiling at her kindly although Snape looked like he wanted to break something.  
  
Hermione needed no more invitation to leave than that and she darted quickly through the door. But she paused on the other side as she heard Professor Snape curse loudly.  
  
"Damn it, Albus, only someone that was there could have known about the Cruciatus. Don't you realize that she's protecting a Death Eater in this school?"  
  
"I do understand the ramifications, Severus. But I'm not going to force the child to break her word. And at the moment, we now have much more important things to worry about."   
  
Hermione wanted to linger, wanted to know more, but the Head Girl in her wouldn't allow herself to eavesdrop on her Professors any longer. She drew back from the door and fled down the stairs.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
They met Sirius a week later in Hogsmeade. It was their first Hogsmeade trip since the Holidays. They would be meeting him in the Shrieking Shack. Sirius hadn't wanted them sneaking to the cave since it was so far from the town. They brought him as much food as they could carry from the kitchens.   
  
Hermione had been more than a little hesitant to go. She wanted to see Sirius, but she was under the strong impression that he wouldn't be entirely pleased to see her. But Harry and Ron had wheedled at her for several days, telling her how she was being ridiculous, that there was absolutely no reason why Sirius wouldn't want her there. Eventually she had given in.   
  
Harry and Ron were very stupid.  
  
Hermione threaded her fingers through the straps of her book bag and twisted them hard, focusing on the whiteness of her knuckles as the blood was cut off. It helped her ignore the fact that Sirius had hardly spoken to her the whole evening. But it seemed that he didn't want her to think that he had forgotten all about her because every now and again she would look up to find him watching her, his eyes dark and unreadable, a faint frown on his face. Hermione squirmed in her dusty armchair.  
  
"It was a lucky break for Dumbledore to get wind of Voldemort's plan before the attack on Manchester." Sirius' voice was gravely but cheerful.  
  
Hermione looked up to see Harry and Ron glance quickly at her then away.   
  
"Yes it was," Harry agreed.  
  
"But the damn Ministry still says that Voldemort hasn't returned. I can't understand how Fudge can be so single-minded!" Ron cursed.  
  
"Fudge hopes that if he ignores the problem it will go away on it's own." Sirius said calmly before rummaging through Harry's bag in search of more food. "It has worked for him so far." He said between bites of the chicken leg he had just discovered.   
  
He was dirty and disheveled from travel. Not quite as mangy and emaciated as they had seen him in the past but Hermione had heard Harry's quick intake of breath at the site of his godfather who had improved so much while at Hogwarts the previous year.   
  
Hermione shook her head violently, surprising everyone since this was the most she had moved in almost an hour, "but it hasn't been working! People have been dying all along, good people. Fudge is letting them die. He's as bad as Voldemort." Hermione's voice broke off and she clenched the armrest of her chair so tightly that she felt the red upholstery start to give under her fingernails.  
  
Sirius was watching her thoughtfully again. At one point Hermione had been flattered by receiving such an intent interest from the older man but given his recent behavior she decided quite suddenly that she hated it.   
  
"You should be heading back to school now." Sirius said to Harry even though his eyes were still lingering on Hermione. "It will be dark soon and I don't think that it's safe."  
  
"How long are you staying here?" Harry asked as he got to his feet.  
  
Sirius stood up and walked over to the fireplace, placing another log in. He stood there looking at the flickering fire for several minutes before answering, "I'm leaving in the morning."  
  
"Leaving?" Ron voiced their mutual surprise, "But you just got here."  
  
"I have information about Peter. He's hiding in Brighton, in an old church. I'm going after him." Sirius was still looking at the fire.  
  
"But that's really dangerous," Hermione got to her feet and approached him. "You shouldn't go alone. Go to Dumbledore, he'll help you." Hermione cautiously placed a hand on his arm.   
  
Sirius looked at her hand as if questioning its existence then stepped slowly away from her. "I have to do this alone. This is between Peter and I, no one else."   
  
"That's very stupid you know." Harry snapped taking everyone by surprise.  
  
"What if something happens to you? How will anyone know to come help you?" Ron asked.  
  
Sirius looked at the three, they were all wearing equal looks of concern. He smiled ruefully and ruffled Harry's hair in a father-like gesture. "I'll owl you in three days. If I don't, then you can worry."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
He didn't owl them in three days.  
  
Harry was in a state of panic by Thursday. It had been two whole days past when they should have received word. He sent a letter to Sirius hoping to get a response, hoping that Sirius' owl had simply gotten lost, that the notice of his safety existed but simply hadn't made it all the way back to Hogwarts. But when Hedwig sailed off, Harry felt this mission was too important to trust to a school owl, none of them really expected her to find him.   
  
Hermione watched Harry very closely all throughout Potions as he sat next to her silently grinding his dried squid tentacles into a fine powder. He hardly spoke at all and Hermione was nervous.   
  
"Maybe we should go to Dumbledore," Ron suggested cautiously from Harry's other side.   
  
"He's not here," Harry responded while pressing his pestle down perhaps a bit harder than was necessary, his wild black hair hiding his eyes.  
  
"Not here?" Hermione whispered as Snape past by their table. "Where is he?"  
  
"Don't know," Harry added more squid to his pestle, "McGonagall wouldn't tell me. Said that he would be back in a day or two and not to concern myself with the Headmaster's personal affairs."  
  
He pushed back from their table then and walked to the front of the room without a single word, an empty beaker clenched so tightly in his hands that Hermione could see the white of his knuckles from across the room. They watched as he ladled some of the base potion that Snape had provided for them into his beaker before turning back to them. Hermione looked at Ron out of the corner of her eye, he met her look and the silent thought that passed between them was obvious; this was bad.   
  
Harry didn't speak for the rest of the class.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione spent the rest of the day on edge. She couldn't really explain it but it felt like something very important was going on just out of sight. Hermione found herself feeling that if she walked just a little bit faster she would turn a corner right into whatever it was because it was definitely something even if she couldn't see it or describe it. There was a building edge of adrenalin that went along with the strange feeling and Hermione's heart beat so quickly that her pulse was visible along the sides of her throat.   
  
It was no wonder then that when Draco reached from a darkened classroom as she passed and jerked her inside of it that he soon found himself sprawled across the ground with a smarting chin and a wand pointed at his head.  
  
"Oww, Hermione, I didn't know you could hit like that." Draco rubbed his chin, completely unaffected by the wand aimed at him.  
  
Hermione drew in a deep, shuddering breath, "I've hit you before you great prat. And would you stop sneaking up on me!"  
  
Draco got to his feet and straightened his robes casually, nonplussed by her anger. There was a cocky smirk on his face that made Hermione's already frayed nerves tense.  
  
"What do you want?" Hermione asked slowly enunciating her words carefully in hopes to calm herself. If she stayed upset Harry and Ron would be upon her in minutes, they could always tell with her, she simply wasn't very good at hiding her feelings.   
  
Draco's smirk faded then, his jovial air disappearing. "I wanted to warn you." Hermione's eyes widened slightly and Draco continued. "Stay in the school for the next couple of days. Don't let Potter and Weasley drag you off somewhere." Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Draco held up a hand to silence her, "I know that you three have grand adventures that nearly get you killed all the time. But for now, just stay here, won't you?"  
  
"What's happening?"   
  
Draco shook his head ruefully, "I don't know." He pushed his sleeve up carefully and studied his left arm, Hermione could see it again, the mark. He was being called. "When it goes completely black I'll have to go."   
  
Hermione shook her head and closed her fingers over it hiding it from view. "Don't go, Draco."   
  
He carefully removed her fingers and stepped towards the door, "Stay here." And then he was gone.  
  
Hermione followed him to the door but he had already disappeared. She walked through the hall towards the common room deep in though, the setting sun shining dimly through the windows casting reddish shadow along the floor. Something was happening. Draco was being called. Sirius was missing and something was happening. Hermione started to run.  
  
Harry and Ron were waiting for her when she burst into the common room. They were both carrying traveling cloaks and were trying very hard not to look like they were up to something. As Hermione leaned over, her hands on her knees gasping for breath, she realized that they had her cloak as well.  
  
"We're going after Snuffles," Ron told her softly and Hermione nodded breathlessly.  
  
"I still don't think you two should go." Harry muttered as Hermione finally stood. They had obviously been arguing about it for a while.  
  
"Of course we're going," Hermione said as she pulled her cloak away from Harry and stepped back out of the common room.  
  
"But it will be dangerous, really dangerous." Harry replied half-heartedly.  
  
  
  
"What? Dangerous? You don't say. And this wouldn't be like any other year for us then?" Ron smiled at Harry and after a moment, Harry returned it wryly.  
  
"I talked to Draco," Hermione told them as they walked as quickly as possible through the halls without attracting undue attention. "He says that something is happening with the Death Eaters."  
  
"Do you think it has to do with Sirius?" Harry asked coming to a sudden halt.   
  
Hermione nodded quickly and grasped his arm pulling him along, "It fits very nicely, Sirius goes missing, and the Death Eaters decide to have a sudden get-together."  
  
They reached the entrance hall and headed towards the main doors. They quickly piled through and headed across the lawn towards Hagrid's hut but once they reached the sheltering edge of the Forbidden Forest they turned sharply and ran towards Hogsmeade. The sun had fully set now and a cool rain began to fall misting them completely. At the outskirts of Hogsmeade they changed out of their conspicuous school robes and into some muggle clothes.   
  
The driver of the Knight Bus hardly even glanced at them as they climbed aboard and told him their destination. Together they walked to the back of the bus and sat on the edge of a bed. Harry adjusted his glasses, Ron rubbed at a spot on his nose, and Hermione clenched her clammy hands together in her lap. They spent their trip together in nervous silence.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was midnight. They had found the dilapidated church where Pettigrew had been hiding. It was at the bottom of a hill, dark leafless trees surrounded it, their long spindly branches reaching like fingers over top of it, sheltering the crumbling stonewalls from wind. Hermione shivered in fear just looking at it.   
  
"I don't see anyone," Ron whispered to them.   
  
"Neither do I," Harry replied. "Watch your foot Ron, it's sticking out."  
  
Ron quickly pulled his foot back under the hem of the invisibility cloak. "Well? What now? I don't see anyone."  
  
"There's probably an underground level. These old churches all use to have underground catacombs and chambers." Hermione said knowingly.   
  
A snap from behind made them all go still.   
  
"Did you hear that?" Ron hissed louder than he should have.  
  
"Shut up," Harry growled.  
  
But it was too late.   
  
"Expelliarmus!" a voice from behind them shouted.  
  
They were knocked off their feet. Hermione made a desperate grab at the invisibility cloak and was able to remain covered despite losing her wand. Harry and Ron were not so lucky. They lay sprawled on the ground, very much in the open.  
  
"Well what do we have here?" The voice belonged to man in a black cloak and robe. His wand was held tightly in his hand, the cowl of his cloak rested on his shoulders, they could see his dark eyes glinting almost madly at them through the shadow of the night.   
  
"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked bravely.  
  
The man's eyes narrowed on Harry and Ron as he brought his wand level to their heads. "You have much larger problems than worrying about him."   
  
Ron and Harry scrambled back but the man casually followed him. Hermione, who was covered in the invisibility cloak stood silently as the man walked past her. She looked around for their wands, but she didn't see them.   
  
"Who would have thought that I would be responsible for killing Harry Potter?" The man laughed at Harry's incredulous look, "Yes boy, I know who you are."   
  
Hermione was looking for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. Not far from her feet was a jagged rock the size of a melon. Gripping it with both hands she rushed forward.  
  
"And so ends the leg..." The man started to say but had no chance to finish as Hermione made contact.  
  
There was no sound from the man other than the crunch of rock against bone and an exhale of air. Then their attacker slipped wordlessly to the ground. The hood of the invisibility cloak had fallen backwards. Harry and Ron stared up at Hermione's white face. The rock was clenched in her tight hands still. Her arms trembled as her eyes flew downward following the descent of the body. The tremors in her arms shook her hands so hard that the rock fell. Before it could hit she had already spun around and collapsed to the ground, retching into the bushes.   
  
Harry immediately went to her side while Ron took the wand out of the still man's hand.   
  
"Is he dead?" Harry asked as Ron checked for a pulse.  
  
Hermione whimpered and retched again.  
  
"No, I don't think so. He appears to have an unnaturally thick skull." Ron said over his shoulder. "Accio Wands!" Ron called softly as he stood. Three wands flew into his hands. He looked back to the prone figure. "We can't very well leave him here can we?"  
  
"Better?" Harry asked Hermione as the shaking began to subside. She nodded silently and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Turning to Ron, "we should tie him up somehow."  
  
"Don't suppose you have any rope?"  
  
Hermione stood suddenly and reached for her wand. Ron handed it to her quickly and she pointed it at her victim. She muttered a quick spell and ropes sprung from the end of her wand encircling the Death Eater tightly.  
  
Hermione rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand; it was sweaty. She still felt faint. The cloyingly sweet flavor of sickness lingered in her mouth.  
  
"Here," Ron rummaged around in his pockets before handing her a single peppermint drop.   
  
She took it from him cautiously, eyeing the bits of lint stuck to it. But the sticky film in her mouth was too urgent to ignore. Hermione scraped as much gray fuzz off of it as was possible before putting it in her mouth and sucking greedily at it.   
  
"We have to keep going." Harry whispered finally.  
  
Ron dragged the prone form of their attacker over to a clump of shadowy bushes. He pulled some of the branches down over the man to hide him. Satisfied that no one would find him easily he returned to Hermione and Harry.  
  
Hermione straightened out the invisibility cloak and draped it carefully over her shoulders. Ron and Harry disappeared under it a moment later. Together they headed towards the derelict church.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"We have to split up." Hermione said softly.   
  
"Absolutely not," Harry hissed angrily. "It's too dangerous."   
  
Ron shifted silently between them. The problem was that they were both right. The catacombs underneath the church were extensive. They were never going to find Sirius at this rate. They stood now, still invisible, at a proverbial fork in the road. Two doors stood before them, one to the right, and the other to the left. In between these was a rough-hewn stairwell leading down into dimly lit shadows.   
  
"We don't have much time Harry," Hermione pleaded, "The longer that we're here, the more likely it is that we'll get caught."  
  
"I don't care, we're better off together."   
  
"Harry," Ron muttered finally, "I don't like it either but you know that Hermione is right. The sooner that we find Sirius, the sooner we can get out of here, and I really want to get out of here."  
  
Harry pushed past them, ducking out from under the protective cover of the cloak. He turned on them angrily, "Fine, we'll split up."  
  
"Harry," Hermione grasped his wrist and pulled him back towards them, "you can be seen now."  
  
"Well we can't all have the cloak's protection if we go on alone now can we?" Harry's eyes were flashing dark green.  
  
"I...I hadn't thought..." Hermione muttered apologetically.  
  
Ron stepped away from her, "you should take the cloak, Hermione."  
  
"I will not, it's Harry's cloak." Hermione still hadn't released Harry's wrist.   
  
"No," Harry pulled away from her, "Ron is right, you should keep it."  
  
"This way," Ron grinned, "when Harry and I get into trouble you can rescue us again."   
  
"This isn't the time for jokes," Hermione hissed angrily.  
  
"It will be all right," Harry said gently before turning away from them and walked towards the left door. "Be back here in ten minutes, with or without Sirius."  
  
Ron nodded and then reached towards Hermione, searching out her invisible hand. "He's right you know, it'll be all right." And then he was gone too, through the right door leaving Hermione no choice but the stairwell.  
  
It was long and winding, dull light flickered from ancient torches that probably hadn't been used since the last priest had vacated the fallen down church. The farther she got from where Harry and Ron had left her, the more nervous Hermione became. She shouldn't be here, she wasn't a hero, she was much more useful with a book in a library somewhere.   
  
Her foot slipped on a loose slab and Hermione pitched forward, her hands grasping at the rough wall desperate to gain purchase. Unable to do so, Hermione landed in an ungainly heap at the foot of the stairs. She lay perfectly still for almost a minute, listening for the sounds of someone coming, someone who had heard her. No one came. Hermione got unsteadily to her feet and adjusted the cloak. She hadn't fallen far, only a few more steps and she would have been at the bottom anyway, but her head ached now and there was a painful tenderness in the elbow of her right arm.   
  
Gingerly rubbing her already forming bruise, Hermione surveyed the room she was standing in. The stairwell had deposited her into an even darker corridor. Several doors led off this hall, most looked as if they hadn't been used in a century and would probably crumble at a touch. Water was dripping off of the dank walls. But from the farthest end of the corridor light was shining from around a slightly opened door. Hermione could hear someone talking.  
  
She crept forward, careful not to touch the door as she slipped into the far room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. The room was wide with a low ceiling. Like the rest of the church, rough stones lined the walls. Two of the walls were covered in deep shelves that had been carved from the rock walls. Hermione's hand tightened around her wand. She was in a tomb and she wasn't alone.  
  
Peter Pettigrew was far changed from when she had seen him last chained between Ron and Professor Lupin as they led him back towards Hogwarts in their third year. At that time he had been frightened, pale, and showing the signs of a man who was very sick. He was no longer frightened or pale but Hermione still thought that he was sick as he stood before Sirius with a mad glint in his eyes.   
  
Sirius Black sat with his back to the far wall, his hands strung up above his head by thick chains. His dark robes were nearly shredded. His head was bowed and long, black hair hung around his face in sweaty bands. Hermione thought that he was dead. But she was wrong.  
  
"Why don't you just kill me Peter?" His voice was low, pained.  
  
Pettigrew chuckled, "It doesn't serve my Lord's purpose to have you killed just yet."  
  
"What does he want?" Sirius seemed to be having trouble forming his words.  
  
"Information about Dumbledore's spies."   
  
Sirius' laughter, much to Hermione's surprise, was actually amused. "You damned fools, I won't tell you anything."  
  
"So quick to be a martyr then Sirius?" Wormtail placed a gentle hand on Sirius' head. It was almost a caress.  
  
Sirius kicked out at Wormtail at his touch and the other man jumped backwards, growling angrily. Sirius looked up at Wormtail, "keep your filthy hands to yourself you little rat."   
  
Wormtail was smiling again, but it was tight, forced. "You're going to die tonight, Black. My master is going force all your secrets from you and then cut you down. You'll die a Brutus. No one will ever know that you didn't betray James and Lily. Not even the other Death Eaters know the truth. And once you're gone, who will be left to protect poor little Harry?"   
  
Sirius moved forward once again trying to get to his feet, the chains connecting him to the wall clashed angrily. Sirius fell back against the floor with a groan. Wormtail laughed and pointed his wand at Sirius.  
  
"Shall we begin again Sirius?"   
  
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Wormtail cast the Cruciatus on Sirius. It was only after his screams had subsided did she open them again, pain stinging in the palms of her hands from where she had driven her own fingernails into the soft flesh to keep from crying out.  
  
"He's unconscious again Wormtail."   
  
Hermione had been so busy watching Wormtial and Sirius that she hadn't noticed the other dark robed figure enter the room through the door to her left.   
  
Wormtail sighed and tucked his wand away, "So he has Avery, so he has. And to think that he use to have such stamina when we were younger."  
  
"You have been doing this for hours." The other man, Avery, looked unimpressed with Wormtail.  
  
"Has it been so long?"  
  
"The others will be arriving soon. Have you even prepared the chapel for our Master?"  
  
Wormtail went white, "N...no not yet, I was just on my way. Come and help me Avery." He turned his back on the limp form of Sirius and walked past Avery towards the door. Avery scowled at him once he had past by but he did follow him out of the room.   
  
Hermione pressed herself against the rough stonewalls hard. She held her breath as Pettigrew walked past her through the door. She dared not move until the door clicked shut and the footsteps echoed away then she exhaled shakily and stumbled towards Sirius.  
  
If he heard her coming he didn't show it. His once again mangy hair hung low over his face hiding it. His robes clung wetly to his body and Hermione whimpered when she realized that not all of it was sweat.  
  
Kneeling besides him she touched his shoulder lightly, "Sirius?"  
  
He moaned lowly in response and tried to press against her touch as if it pained him.  
  
Hermione quickly withdrew her hand and turned her attention to the ancient shackles that secured him to the wall. She held her wand above them searching for some sign of magic but Pettigrew was obviously not expecting a rescue attempt for there were no wards.  
  
"Alohomora"  
  
  
  
The shackles opened instantly and Sirius' hands fell lamely to his sides. He moaned again but seemed unable to fully regain his consciousness.  
  
"Sirius?" Hermione reached through the black mass of hair and tilted his face up.  
  
He flinched away from her touch but Hermione only tightened her grip and brushed his hair away from his face.  
  
"Sirius, you have to wake up now," She commanded softy.  
  
"No," he moaned but his eyes opened slowly, uneasily focusing on Hermione's face, his eyes widened.   
  
"No?" Hermione repeated in confusion, "but we have to get out..."  
  
  
  
Sirius suddenly became very much alive again as his hands snapped up, one gripping her arm while the other grabbed the hair in the back of her head and pulled her closer.  
  
"You're not real," He hissed at her.  
  
Hermione squeaked as he pulled sharply on her hair, "Don't be ridiculous, Sirius, of course I'm real."  
  
His half-mad eyes flashed murderously and he jerked her hair again, drowning out her cry of pain as he pulled her mouth down to his.  
  
Hermione didn't struggle as he kissed her. He was far from gentle as he pulled cruelly on her hair and his teeth bit sharply at her bottom lip. But Hermione wasn't afraid. Much to her own surprise she leaned closer to him, her hand gripping his shoulder.  
  
He pulled harder on her. It felt as if he was trying to devour her very soul. Hermione was going to faint. Her eyes drifted shut and she murmured against his mouth, whether it was a sound of pain or pleasure she wasn't sure but Sirius pulled away from her in surprise.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes and found Sirius looking at her with an expression close to horror.  
  
"Hermione?" He whispered hoarsely. His hands fell away from her. "I didn't...I thought..." He stammered painfully.  
  
Hermione folded her arms around herself, suddenly aware that at some point over the last few seconds she had begun to shake violently.   
  
There was the click of a latch and Hermione fumbled for her wand, she had somehow lost tract of it when Sirius had kissed her. It had fallen and rolled almost a full foot from them. Hermione lunged towards it as the door behind her began to swing in. Sirius leaned forward, attempting to put himself between Hermione and whoever was about to join them. But Hermione didn't really appreciate the gesture, it only served to block her view of the door and she would only have one chance to stop someone with her wand. She clutched at the chain hanging from the wall and pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, her knees were oddly weak. Sirius tried to pull her back down but he was once again very weak. Hermione held her wand pointed at the door, the words of the first hex she could think of already leaving her mouth before the door had fully opened.   
  
Hermione went silent, the curse ending unfinished. It was Harry and Ron. The door wasn't open yet but she knew that it was her friends. She was more certain of it than she had ever been about anything else her entire life.   
  
"Hermione?" Harry whispered as he pushed the door open, his wand held in front of him in a dueling stance.   
  
"Harry, Ron, we're here." Hermione moved towards them, thankful to put some distance between Sirius and herself.   
  
"Are you all right?" Harry asked her. "Is Sirius?"  
  
"I am fine, but Sirius..." Hermione looked fretfully at the older man who hadn't moved, "they were torturing him Harry."   
  
"Hermione," Ron reached out suddenly catching her chin in his hand and tilting it examining her face closely, "You're bleeding."  
  
She touched her lips gingerly with her fingers they came back stained with her blood from where Sirius had bitten her. "It's...it's nothing." By their expression Hermione knew that Harry and Ron were aware that she was lying to them. "We don't have time to talk about this!" She snapped jerking out of Ron's concerned grasp, "let's get Sirius and get out of here."  
  
Harry helped Sirius get to his feet. Hermione tried not to look at them as they hobbled over to her. Harry stumbled at the foot of the stairs and Ron had to go to Sirius' other side to help him climb. Sirius wavered in and out of consciousness, his wounds weren't life threatening but they were extensive.  
  
"Come on," Hermione hissed at them as she led the way, "there isn't much time, the others are coming."  
  
"Others?" Ron whispered, "what others?"   
  
They had reached the top of the stairs. Hermione turned back to tell Ron who the 'others' were but voices echoing down from the door that would lead them up into the chapel made her stop.  
  
"Oh no," she breathed as the voices came closer.  
  
"This way," Harry jerked his heads towards the door that he had gone through earlier.  
  
They rushed through the door and into another hallway.   
  
"Which door?" Ron asked Harry.  
  
Sirius' head lolled from side to side, he had lost consciousness again.  
  
"That one," Harry pointed at a door to the right, "it was a storage room, odd bits of stuff, we may be able to hide in there."  
  
Hermione opened the door, darted through, and ran right into the arms of a waiting Death Eater. A black-gloved hand that pressed across her mouth silenced her scream. Her attacker held his wand steadily pointed at Harry and Ron. Hermione only had one option available to her. So she bit him. With a curse the arms disappeared and Hermione spun to face her attacker. She pointed her wand at the black robed figure but did not utter a hex for the boy was sputtering angrily over his wounded hand.  
  
"You bit me!"  
  
"Draco?" She asked lowering her wand a fraction.   
  
"Hermione?" Draco pulled his mask off of his face and stared at her in complete shock realizing whom he had captured. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Harry and Ron both had their wands pointed at Draco now. Ron was spluttering in uncontainable fury. But Draco seemed completely unconcerned with their rage as he seemed to be feeling some of his own. He grabbed Hermione's arm again and pulled her behind him as he advanced on the other boys and Sirius.  
  
"Bloody hell Potter!" He growled angrily pulling Hermione after him, "Have you gone insane? Do you have any idea where you are? And bringing her here, can you even imagine what they would have done to her if they had found her?"   
  
Harry and Ron were so taken aback by Draco's outburst that neither spoke.   
  
Draco rounded on Hermione, "didn't I tell you to stay in the castle? Didn't I tell you not to go wandering off with your friends? This is exactly the type of trouble that I was talking about! And who the hell is that?" Draco pointed at Sirius whose face was hidden yet again by his lank hair.  
  
"No one!' The trio exclaimed at once.  
  
"I don't believe this," Draco was grumbling out loud, he still had a tight grip on Hermione's arm and he started towards the door.   
  
Harry pointed his wand at the Slytherin, "let her go Malfoy."  
  
"Oh come off it Potter, I'm not going to hurt her." Draco scowled at Harry. "Look," he began for Harry and Ron weren't lowering their wands, "do you want to get out of here or not?"   
  
Ron frowned in disbelief, "you're going to help us?"   
  
Draco glanced around the room; "I don't see any other guardian angels around here, do you?"   
  
Hermione blinked up at him silently, had he really just compared himself to an angel? The distraction proved to be too much for Harry and Ron because they let Draco push past them, Hermione pulled along after him. He led them farther down the hallway. He brought them into a room at the far end of the hall.   
  
"This is supposed to help?" Ron asked angrily as they stood looking around the nondescript room.  
  
"Here," Draco held out a box that held an old copy of Most Potente Potions.  
  
"What the hell?" Ron snapped.  
  
"It's a port key isn't it?" Hermione asked.  
  
Draco nodded, "it will take you back to Hogwarts, it's the one that I used to get here."  
  
Harry looked at the book suspiciously, "why are you helping us?"  
  
Draco glared at him, a muscle tensing under the porcelain skin of his forehead. "I'm not helping you, I'm helping her." Draco looked thoughtful for a moment then added, "and no one deserves what they would do to you."  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. Hermione trusted Draco. She really had very little reason to but she did anyway. She nodded at her friends and Harry finally sighed in agreement while Ron sent rebellious scowls in Malfoy's direction.  
  
"Would you just use the damn thing and get out of here? I don't know who you have there but very soon someone is going to know that he's missing and come looking for him." Draco forced the box into Hermione's hands.  
  
"You aren't coming with us?" She asked softly.  
  
Draco paled but his voice was firm, "no, I have a meeting to attend."  
  
"But you can't," she argued desperately, "if they find out that you've helped us..."  
  
"That's why Weasley there is going to hit me." Draco cut her off.  
  
"Hit you?" Ron asked bewildered.  
  
"It will have to look like you attacked me as I arrived." Draco faced Ron proudly waiting.  
  
Ron looked at Draco then down at his hand, which he had already balled into a fist. He let go of Sirius and stepped towards Draco.  
  
"Ron..." Hermione whimpered slightly.  
  
Ron and Draco ignored her as they stared at each other. Then, without warning, Ron drew his fist back before slamming it into Draco's jaw. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to cover her cry as Draco fell down. Draco touched his jaw and then stared up at Ron.  
  
"You've been wanting to do that for a long time, haven't you Weasley?"   
  
Ron looked at his fist again before grinning sardonically at the Slytherin, "every day Malfoy, every day."  
  
"We need to go," Harry said, "listen."  
  
They went silent. Voices could be heard again, angry voices, worried voices. The Death Eaters knew that Sirius was missing.   
  
"Draco," Hermione reached out to him, "will you be all right?"  
  
Draco pushed her hand away, "just go!"  
  
Hermione nodded once before turning her back on him and reaching out a hand along with Harry and Ron to touch the book. The door to the room crashed open as her fingers made contact and she saw only a flash of black robed figures rushing towards them before a pull behind her belly button took her off towards safety.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The whole situation reminded her of the year before. Hadn't she sat in the hospital wing last year wiping the grime off of Sirius Black? It seemed like so long ago but the memory was very clear. She hadn't been nervous then. She hadn't been afraid that he would open those to black eyes of his while she was alone with him. It had been much easier last year.  
  
The port key had indeed deposited them unceremoniously on the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately Draco had failed to mention that they would end up right below the Whomping Willow. Hermione had escaped without a scratch but Ron now had claim to a sprained ankle and two cracked ribs. Harry had been thrown almost twenty yards and had broken his leg. Sirius had regained consciousness long enough to stumble along with Hermione to safety before he abruptly passed out again.  
  
The Headmaster had been livid. None of them had ever seen Professor Dumbledore so angry. They understood that it wasn't just because they had left the school but because they had endangered themselves. It hadn't made the anger or disappointment in his eyes any easier to bear though. For the first time in several years Hermione actually thought that she might be expelled. She imagined that the repercussions would be forth coming once the morning arrived. Dumbledore seemed to believe that he was unable to think rationally about the matter at the moment.  
  
"Ow, Madam Pomfrey that really hurts!" Ron yelped from down the hall.  
  
"It's only what you deserve for sneaking off. You three are lucky that you weren't killed!" Madam Pomfrey's angry voice echoed back.  
  
Hermione dipped the cloth in the bowl of water again. Madam Pomfrey had given Sirius a draft of some dark green liquid that sparked slightly in the glass. She said that it would help calm the muscles; it was necessary after the Cruciatus curse. Hermione wrung the cloth and turned back to Sirius only to find him watching her, his eyes clearer than she had seen so far this night. She was so startled that she stepped backwards, her elbow knocking into the bowl of water and almost upsetting it.   
  
"Hermione, wait." Sirius reached out and caught her arm before she could pull it away.   
  
Hermione forced herself to stay still, what was she doing? She wasn't afraid of Sirius. "How are you feeling?" She asked gently.  
  
"Hermione, what happened earlier, you've got to understand that I never would have had I known it was you." Sirius tried to sit up his grip still tight on her.  
  
"I...I know that Sirius." Hermione felt nervous as she subconsciously tried to slip out of his grasp.   
  
"It was a terrible mistake." Sirius pulled her closer. "You have to understand." His voice was almost desperate.  
  
Hermione gave up any pretense and twisted violently, breaking his grip. Surprised, Sirius let himself fall back onto the pillows. He watched her back away from him with dark, unreadable eyes.   
  
"Disgusting," his whisper was barely audible as he turned his head away from her.  
  
Hermione flinched as if he had struck her. He thought she was disgusting. Hermione felt her chin begin to tremble. She took another step backwards.  
  
"Hermione? Are you all right?" Ron had hobbled up to her without her noticing.  
  
Startled, Hermione wiped quickly at her eyes as she turned towards Ron. "Sirius is awake." She told him simply before bolting out of the hospital wing.  
  
She didn't know where she was going until she got there. The entrance hall was dark and deserted. Only a little bit of light flickered through across the great stairway as she sat down to wait. Hermione wasn't sure how long it would be but the wait didn't seem to matter at the moment. Harry and Ron would start to worry when she didn't come back to the hospital wing but she knew that they wouldn't come looking for her. She sat on a step halfway up the stairs, her chin resting on her knees while she tried not to think about Sirius. An hour past and then another before the great doors opened and a lone figured cloaked in black slipped stealthily into the school.  
  
Hermione stood quietly and watched as the figure pulled the door shut behind him. He surveyed the room, stopping when he noticed her. He pushed the hood of the cloak back as she started walking towards him.   
  
"Are you all right Draco?" She asked him softly when she reached him.  
  
"I...I'm fine," Draco lied; his shaking hands belied his statement.  
  
Hermione stepped closer to him, studying his pale face, his uncontrollable tremors, and his tight lips. "What did he do to you?"  
  
"It's all right, it will pass." Draco said slowly managing not to stutter.  
  
Hermione knew what had happened. She had seen the after effects of the Cruciatus curse after all. In fact, this wasn't even the first time this evening. It didn't make it any easier though. Her lower lip trembled and tears filled her eyes. Draco tried to step nervously back from her, not quite sure of what to do if Hermione became hysterical, but Hermione wasn't going to let him go. She reached out and caught him in her arms; squeezing him tightly she pressed her head into his chest wishing that she could force his shaking body to still.  
  
"We're going to get him." He stiffened at her choked words. "I swear it Draco, we're going to get him." 


	13. Sirius Returns

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but plot!  
  
Author Notes: Well again...thanks for reading...and we'll just have to see if I feel motivated to continue this fic or not.  
  
__________________________________________________  
  
The telephone rang the following day. It had rung many times in the beginning of the week and almost nonstop before the funeral. Hermione had never once answered it. She did today though. But then, she knew who was calling.  
  
Draco was only mildly interested as she scooped the phone off the base and turned away from him. He had settled cheerfully into Sirius' place on the sofa and was highly enjoying a sampling of Saturday afternoon television. He had never stopped being intrigued by muggle technology and Hermione was sure that if circumstances were different he would get along famously with Arthur Weasley.   
  
She took a deep breath, rested the receiver against her ear, "Hello." She said simply.  
  
"Hermione," Harry's voice was crisp, clear, and the probably the most wonderful thing that Hermione had ever heard.  
  
"Hi Mum," Hermione replied after only a second's pause.  
  
"You're not alone? Who's there?" Harry's voice was worried.  
  
"Draco is here, as was Sirius but he left yesterday." Hermione walked into the kitchen under the pretense of getting something to drink.   
  
"Tell your Mum that I said hi." Draco called after her.  
  
"Sirius? Why was Sirius there? And Malfoy, can't you get rid of him?" Harry's voice was worried; they had never planned on unexpected guests.  
  
"No, I haven't been able to, but Draco is helping me with a spell that I'm working on." Hermione's voice remained calm as she spoke but internally her mind was spinning, it was wonderful to hear Harry's voice.  
  
"Will the spell be done? Will you be ready? He's getting braver every day, I know that he's going to come out of hiding and attack the Ministry face to face. Ron still thinks that he'll go for Hogwarts first but I'd bet all the money in Gringotts that he's still afraid of Dumbledore." Harry's voice had risen. It often did when he spoke of Voldemort. Harry's hatred for the Dark Lord had surpassed every other emotion that the young man felt. It frightened Hermione sometimes.  
  
"I'll try Mum, you know that I will." Hermione leaned against the counter and closed her eyes.   
  
"We've followed the trail into Budapest but Ron and I both think that he's going to swing back towards England soon. That's where it's going to happen Hermione. It started in England, it will end in England." Harry's voice became soothing, "are you all right? How are things with everyone?"  
  
Hermione sighed and brushed a wayward curl back behind her ear, "I don't know how you're going to explain it. I don't know if they'll understand."  
  
There was a long pause from the other end before Harry spoke again, "they'll have to understand, it was the only way. I have to end it."  
  
"We have to end it," Hermione's voice was barely above a whisper.  
  
Harry didn't reply, he didn't need to; he understood perfectly what she meant. They had promised long ago to do it together. Hermione and Ron had gladly taken up the burden that Harry had shouldered.   
  
"I have to go Hermione."  
  
"I know."  
  
Harry paused on the other end, Hermione knew that he was trying to form the words that needed to be said to reassure her. But what the original plan seemed much different from this side and it was hard to be comforting. "Be ready, Hermione, be ready."  
  
"Be careful." Hermione said softly in reply.  
  
There was sharp click and the line went blank, leaving Hermione alone once again.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione turned the water off and slid open the opaque glass door. She toweled off quickly, shook as much water from her hair as was possible, and pulled a flannel nightgown over her head. Her mother had given it to her the year before. It was off white with tiny pink roses. The sleeves and hem ended in a pretentious flounce of ruffle while miniscule pearly buttons went all the way up to the hollow of her throat. Hermione hated it. She hardly ever wore it. Ron always teased her about it. He claimed that it made her look like some heroine from a Victorian gothic mystery. Not that Ron would know what a heroine from a Victorian gothic mystery would look like even if the heroine in question came up and beat his head in with a candelabra. But Ron wasn't there to tease her and it was awfully cold outside.   
  
Hermione tucked her wet hair back behind her ears and opened the door to her bedroom. She stopped. She had only been in the shower for a few minutes and yet somehow Draco had managed to take complete possession of her bed. He lay diagonally across it on his stomach. The blanket was trapped underneath him. Two pillows cushioned his down turned face while another was ensnared beneath his right arm. Hermione didn't even want to wonder where the other pillow was.   
  
She sighed deeply before deciding that she wasn't that tired anyway. Hermione pulled another blanket from her wardrobe and carefully laid it over Draco. He murmured lightly in his sleep but didn't wake up.   
  
The flat was dark but Hermione didn't need any light to find her way. In the kitchen she lit a candle with the tip of her wand. She pulled the bag of coffee grinds from the icebox and carefully measured in the proper amount. Hermione poured the water in and pushed the button. Nothing happened. Frowning Hermione pushed it again with the same result. She reached behind the accursed appliance and jiggled the cord.   
  
"Come on," Hermione moaned pushing the buttons again.   
  
"Do you want me to do it?"  
  
Hermione turned so quickly that she knocked the bag of grinds over, spilling them across the counter. Sirius raised one eyebrow but said nothing.  
  
"Sirius!" Hermione's voice was high and panicked, "don't sneak up on me!"  
  
He raised his hands in front of him apologetically, "I hadn't meant to scare you. But might I suggest putting some wards on your front door?"  
  
"Harry and Ron usually take care of that." Hermione told him as she fought down the endorphins that had arisen over her shock.   
  
Sirius approached her and started adjusting the settings on the coffee maker. Hermione stood silently next to him watching his strong hands as he began to sweep the grinds back into the bag. The coffee pot was forgotten as a stream of dark coffee began to pour from the bottom.   
  
"It's late," Sirius said gently without looking at her, "you should be sleeping."   
  
Hermione fingered the ruffle of one sleeve; she really did hate this nightgown. "Draco stole my bed and I'm not particularly tired anyway."  
  
"Stole?" Sirius questioned lightly although Hermione saw his shoulders stiffen as he turned his back to her to put the bag back in the freezer, "aren't you sharing it?"  
  
Hermione knew perfectly well what he meant by that question and unlike Draco she saw no need to let Sirius think that there was something more between them than there was. "Sirius, I'm not sleeping with Draco."  
  
He turned to look at her now, obvious disbelief in his dark eyes.  
  
"You think that I'm lying?" Hermione questioned, not particularly offended.  
  
Sirius had the good sense to look embarrassed, "No, no of course I don't think that you're lying. It's just that he seems very affectionate." Sirius' voice dropped to a low growl over his last few words.  
  
Hermione sighed and pulled herself up easily onto the counter the soft flickering candle casting moving shadows across the kitchen. She was glad that the low light didn't allow for the flowers on her nightgown to be seen. Sirius stood watching her a few feet away. Hermione was surprised to realize that she was glad that he was back.   
  
"He's only being doing that to annoy you." Hermione smiled at him slightly. "He seems to think that you're jealous."  
  
Sirius looked away from her and turned to the cabinet behind him and extracted two mugs. Hermione studied his back. Draco wasn't right, was he? She couldn't even imagine why he would be jealous.   
  
"Why did you come back?" Hermione asked the question before she even realized that she wanted to know.  
  
Sirius turned back to her, "to protect you. I can't very well do that if I'm off sulking somewhere can I?"  
  
Hermione sighed dully and leaned back against the cabinets, "I don't need you to protect me Sirius."  
  
Sirius smiled grimly, "I know that you don't. But I'll protect you anyway if I can."  
  
Hermione closed her eyes. It was pointless arguing about it with him. Didn't he understand that she didn't appreciate the gesture? That she never had? She didn't need looking after like some pet goldfish that Harry had left unattended.  
  
"I've never hated you." His was soft, deep, and very close to her.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes. Sirius was only a few inches away from her. All he had to do to touch her was lean forward ever so slightly. Hermione marveled at how silent he was all the while a tiny thrill began to thrum gently along her spine.   
  
"I know that," Hermione whispered not knowing why, "I was upset and I over reacted a bit. I know that hate is a bit strong."  
  
Sirius frowned as if puzzled about something. "Don't you understand?" He asked moving imperceptibly closer.  
  
Hermione's internal alarm sounded and subconsciously she began to slide a little farther away from him but Sirius grasped her arm stopping her retreat.  
  
"Do you remember the first time you spoke to me?" His eyes were so dark.  
  
Hermione found that her mouth had gone painfully dry so she simply shook her head.  
  
Sirius chuckled ruefully, "No, I don't suppose that you would, but then that's the type of person that you are. You called me Mr. Black."   
  
Hermione struggled to remember, but she had been so frightened that night it was hard to recall such an insignificant detail. "So?" She finally managed to speak.  
  
"You were the first individual to talk me like I was a person. The first in twelve years that didn't make me feel like a murderer. You were amazing." His voice was so low that it could hardly be heard.  
  
Hermione's eyes went wide at the sudden compliment. He hadn't said anything like that to her in years. Not since her sixth year. "I...I'd never really thought about it like that." Hermione whispered. And then something clicked in her brain, something that she had never even considered before, something that her modesty wouldn't ever have allowed as a possibility.  
  
  
  
Sirius was so close to her now that she almost felt his warm breath against her face. His grip on her arm hadn't lessened at all. But he wasn't hurting her.   
  
"Sirius," Hermione breathed, "what were you protecting me from?"  
  
Sirius' hand tightened. His eyes looked pained and uncertain. When he answered her question, his voice was one that she hadn't heard from him in a long time.  
  
"I was protecting you from myself."   
  
And then he closed the pitiful distance that separated them and kissed her. 


	14. A New Beginning

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jk...(not that I've forgiven her for Sirius yet)  
  
Author Notes: Okay...after some thought and time (more time than thought really) I've decided to try and continue on with this fic. I can't guarantee that I'll finish because I don't have a very firm idea of where I want things to end up. I did when I started, but I lost it somehow. But I will try.  
  
- Thanks to Vegeta for beta reading and thanks to Kenzie my ever present watch dog. (If you ever complain, watch your back, that kid can be scary!) But more importantly, I wanted to thank everyone that has left a review. I never thought that this fic would garner so much interest. I was truly floored by all the awesome things that people had to say. Thank you!  
  
- Now about this chapter. It's not terribly important. They've all left Hogwarts and are starting their Auror training. This chapter is really just setting the scene for later chapters so please bare with me. :)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"An Auror? Could you be any more goody-goody?" Draco scowled over the top of his latte at her.   
  
HHHH Hermione returned his scowl with a frown of her own. "You don't think I'm capable, do you?"  
  
Draco laughed humorously, "You're putting words in my mouth again, Granger."  
  
Hermione's glare softened, he only resorted to calling her by her surname when he was getting defensive. It was a common trait of his that didn't really work on her anymore.   
  
"I think you're far more capable of being an Auror than those two. Sure Potter has that despicably uncanny luck, but that doesn't really make him worthy of law-enforcement. His luck will run out eventually." Hermione chose to ignore the hopeful hint in his tone. "And don't even get me started on Weasley. I wouldn't want to rely on him for anything." Draco's voice stayed even throughout his diatribe but one of his pale hands was clenching the porcelain mug rather tightly.   
  
Hermione looked at her own coffee cup. She didn't generally drink coffee, preferring tea to most other hot beverages, but Draco's odd appreciation for certain muggle things had grown to include the strong, slightly bitter drink. Whenever they had met secretly over the summer, it had always been in a place exactly like the one they were in now. A dark little corner café, muggle down to the dirty linoleum floors and dull fluorescent lights that were mostly burnt out leaving little light, but serving some of the tastiest coffee around. Or at least, Draco said that it was Hermione didn't drink enough of it to feel justified to make a judgment.   
  
"You would make a good Auror."   
  
Hermione looked back up in surprise.   
  
Draco caught her with his intense gray eyes, "I just think that you aught to consider something else. There are so many things that you could do. There are so many things that won't put you in such danger. To be perfectly honest I'm surprised that you made it out of Hogwarts alive, all of you. The number of times that the three of you, especially Potter, managed to avoid dying is simply astronomical. Haven't you done enough?"  
  
He was right; of course, Draco generally was for some reason. They'd had many near misses with death. There was rarely a morning since school had ended where Hermione hadn't woken up and wished for a normal wizarding life. A life where she got a nice secure job and her friends got nice secure jobs. But that wasn't her life, not yet anyway, not when she was going to start classes at Aylesbury Auroring Academy in less than a week.   
  
Hermione leaned forward and caught his arm. Draco tensed knowing immediately what she was doing. Her delicate fingers caught the sleeve of expensive black robe and she pushed it up his arm, revealing a light mark that a passerby would have mistaken for nothing more than a fading bruise. But Hermione and Draco both knew better. The mark would darken abruptly when Voldemort called him leaving a black skull and snake marring the otherwise pristine lightness of his skin.  
  
Hermione studied the stain on his skin for a moment with soft brown eyes before speaking, "No, Draco, we haven't done enough yet."  
  
She let a moment lapse for her words to sink in before she released his arm. He sat back in his rickety chair, folded down his sleeve, and glared at her again. "I hate it when you do that."  
  
"I know, and I'm sorry, but it really is the quickest way to make my point." Hermione smiled slightly trying to soothe his ruffled feathers.  
  
"What do your parents think about it?" Draco asked trying to ignore her smile of apology.  
  
"Oh you know my parents," Hermione waved her hand dismissively at his question, "their pleased about it, of course."  
  
Draco sighed and rubbed his forehead, "they have no idea what an Auror is do they?"  
  
Hermione's sigh echoed Draco's as she daintily stirred a second packet of sugar into her coffee, "Not in the slightest."   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
She wasn't sure what to wear. It was ridiculous really. Hermione was a perfectly capable eighteen-year-old woman. She had never given much thought to fashion before. She had always viewed Lavender and Parvati's pandering in front of the mirror at Hogwarts with a superior eye. But here it was, Sunday night, and she had spent three hours going through every trunk, every dresser, and every wardrobe that in her room. Nothing seemed appropriate.  
  
Hermione could always wear her old Hogwarts robes; they still fit. But that almost seemed like a step backward. This was a fresh start a new beginning, it called for new clothes.   
  
"You should have gone shopping, dear." Her mother said gently from the doorway.  
  
Hermione smiled ruefully, tucked a brown curl back behind her ear, and kicked a pile a clothes on the floor. "You are probably right, Mum. But I've been busy getting everything ready."   
  
Her stepped into the room and pulled the door close behind her. "You would tell us, if you were going to do something dangerous, wouldn't you?"   
  
Hermione's smile faded and she looked away guiltily; she never could lie to her parents very well.   
  
Her mother sighed, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the only empty spot on the bed signifying that Hermione should join her. "I was afraid of that."  
  
Hermione sat stiffly next to her mother feeling guiltier by the minute.  
  
"I had hoped that you would become a teacher. Maybe marry one of your friends from school in a year or two. You know that I'm quite fond of Harry and Ron. That Draco was very sweet too, although I think he might be a bit too much to handle at times."   
  
Hermione sniggered. "Mum, I can assure you that I am in no way interested in Harry, Ron, or Draco."  
  
"Well then who are you interested in?" Her mother asked immediately.  
  
Hermione's eyes went wide; her mother was too good at this, Hermione had thought they were discussing her dangerous life path, not her love life, or lack there of. "Mum, there really isn't anyone that I'm interested in." She assured her mother.  
  
"Oh, well that's good to hear." Her mother stood up suddenly and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
"It is?" Her lack of suitors had never been something her mother was fond of.  
  
"Well if you're available then there isn't any reason why you can't see a few of my friends' sons." Her mother beamed and then was out of the room almost as if she had never been there to begin with.  
  
Hermione blinked wide eyes at her mother's passing. "How does she do that?" She groaned aloud as she flopped back on her bed.  
  
Hermione played with absentmindedly with the sleeve of her blue dress robe. It had ended up in the pile of clothes as well. She always felt pretty when she wore.   
  
Sitting up with a sigh, Hermione let go of the robe and pulled a pillow encased in yellow lace onto her lap. Resting her cheek against it, she studied the distant view of London that she had from her window. Their house was on a small knoll in one of the many suburbs surrounding the city. At night she could make out the little pinpricks of light that announced London's presence.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes. She hadn't lied to her mother. Not really. She wasn't interested in anyone. She just happened to think about someone in particular an awful lot. She wondered where Sirius was. Hermione hoped that he was safe, that he was well. She worried if he had enough food or if he was warm at night. There were little, unimportant thoughts, and Hermione didn't share them with anyone.  
  
They were for her alone. Much like the memory of that kiss. Hermione hadn't dared to tell anyone of it. She had never talked about it with Sirius afterward. But then, Hermione had never returned to the hospital wing after that first night, that night when he had called her disgusting.   
  
As soon as Sirius was well enough to leave, he had. And Hermione didn't see him go. Harry asked her to come along with him and Ron, but she had refused. She'd had some excuse.   
  
They hadn't seen him since. Hermione didn't ask Harry if they heard from him. She supposed that they did, but he didn't tell her of his own accord. Sometimes, Harry would look at her and she would almost swear that he knew something. But what he might know, even Hermione wasn't certain.   
  
It was all very frustrating and Hermione had spent months trying to get Harry's godfather out of her head. But it was so hard to forget about him when she didn't know if he was safe, if he was cared for.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Hermione stepped off the train and frowned at the graffiti that littered the walls of the Underground station she had emerged into. A quick scouring charm would clean that right off in no time. But it was hardly worth the effort considering that any clear patch would simply be scrawled back over in a matter of hours. Not to mention the number of laws she would be breaking to do something like that. It wasn't that Hermione had become more of a rule breaker over the past two months since Hogwarts, but there was an uncomfortable urge in the pit of her stomach that willed her to do something wild, it was an urge that Hermione was beginning to believe belonged to someone else. She was going to have to have a very firm talk with Harry and Ron. It simply wouldn't do for one of them to get a warning the from the Ministry of Magic right before they started at the academy.   
  
"Hermione! Oi! Over here!" A shout echoed over the heads of the surrounding crowd.  
  
Hermione stood on tiptoes trying to see where Ron's voice had come from but to no avail, it was painfully crowded. But before she could get to frustrated she felt a sudden distinct pull to her left inside her stomach and she turned following the urge. Harry and Ron were twenty feet away, standing half way up a stairwell, looking completely unconcerned as they blocked a good deal of traffic that was trying to walk down the stairs. Hermione made her way to them, ignoring the annoyed looks people sent her as she knocked past them fighting the flow of people.   
  
"Hermione, why are you dressed like that? Aren't you going to wear a robe?" Ron asked when she reached them.  
  
Hermione fingered the sleeve of her plain white blouse. The brown tweed skirt went to her knees and her basic brown flats drew little attention. "I'm going to change once we get to the Leaky Cauldron, you know I don't like riding the Underground in my robes, people always look at me funny."  
  
"Well thank goodness for that, you look like my muggle neighbor, she's been teaching school for about a hundred years now." Ron told her over his shoulder as they started up the steps.  
  
Both Harry and Ron were dressed in black robes that looked like they would have blended in well with every robe that they ever wore to Hogwarts. There wasn't a dress code at Aylesbury but the standard black school robes from Hogwarts were hard to get over, they had become so ingrained in their heads.   
  
As they climbed the stairs Hermione studied the back of Ron's head for a moment, "You know Ron, before you start teasing me about my clothes you really aught to brush your hair."  
  
A wayward tuft of red hair was sticking nearly straight up and Hermione was having a hard time keeping her hands at her side, they itched to flatten it.   
  
"If anyone needs to brush their hair it's Harry." Ron replied easily.  
  
"Harry's hair is always messy Ron, you know that." Hermione told him.  
  
Harry stopped at the top of the stairs as they walked past him still discussing his messy appearance, "I am standing right here you know."  
  
Hermione paused and grasped his arm, pulling him along behind her. "Don't be ridiculous Harry. You'll make us late if you lag behind."  
  
"Well we wouldn't be running behind at all if you would have just apparated to the Leaky Cauldron." Ron grumbled as he crossed the street oblivious to the passing autos.  
  
"You know that my Mum and Dad don't like me to apparate in the house!" Hermione snapped as she tried to follow Ron across the street.  
  
There was a blaring of horns and Hermione had only a moment to register that the car that was about to hit her was gray before Harry's strong hands jerked her back onto the curb.  
  
Ron had been grinning as he watched her cross; he liked to harass her whenever possible but his smile faded now. "Hey, are you all right?" He called worriedly across the street.  
  
Hermione glared at him angrily, adrenalin still pumping through her veins. "You know Weasley," she snapped, "No one asked you to wait for me."  
  
Ron jogged back across the street, again narrowly missing cars that didn't even seem to register in his mind. He looked her over thoroughly making sure that she was unharmed.   
  
"Of course we would wait for you, Hermione." Harry told her. "You wouldn't have to ask."   
  
Hermione immediately felt childish. She knew that Ron was only teasing her. One would think that after almost seven and half years she would be use to it. But Hermione had many sensitive spots, having to make Harry and Ron ever wait for her for anything made her feel ashamed. But she shouldn't lash out at them like that.   
  
Taking a deep breath she pushed past them, "Come on then, we'll make it if we hurry."  
  
She didn't wait for them to answer as she set off across the street, making sure to look both ways this time, but she didn't miss Ron's underhand comments to Harry.  
  
"She called me 'Weasley', didn't she? Spending too much time with that Slytherin prat again isn't she?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The school was a long, two story, brick building. It was non-descript and dripping with anti-muggle wards that were so strong even wizards felt a bit of trepidation when approaching for the first time. It was in a heavily wooded area, if Hermione hadn't known better she would have thought that it was deserted the first time that she saw it. The grounds were wild and over run. Ivy covered at least half the building and some of the windows appeared to be broken.  
  
"They really don't want people to come here, do they?" Ron asked between bites of his turkey sandwich.   
  
"I suppose not," Harry agreed cheerfully.  
  
They had a good reason to be cheerful; so far their first day had gone almost unnaturally well. The professors and Aurors that would be teaching them were all pleasant and smart. There weren't any Snapes or Lockharts to be found. Hermione knew that Harry had never once been so comfortable with all his teachers at once.   
  
Back in Hogwarts Hermione excelled in school to the point where all of her teachers had appreciated her work, except for that hack Trelawney. Hermione even felt that she had earned a small measure of respect from Professor Snape in her final year even with his fury over her source's identity. Ron had always managed to get through his classes with little interaction with teachers one way or the other. But poor Harry had always seemed to have troubles with his professors, either they seemed to believe he was something more than he was such as Flitwick, or that he was something less such as Snape had.  
  
Harry knitted his hands behind his head and plopped backwards against the green, uneven grass of the front lawn at Ayelsbury. "Think we'll do all right?"  
  
"What?" Hermione asked while pouring another cup of tea from the thermos she had brought with her. "Do you mean here at school?"  
  
"School, everything I suppose." Harry withdrew one hand from under his head and pulled off his glasses. He closed his glass-green eyes against the glinting sun.  
  
"We'll do fine," Ron said cheerfully after drinking the entire cup of tea in one swallow, he had undone the first several buttons of his black robe when they first come outside for lunch, A good portion of bare chest was visible to the sun.   
  
"You aught to use a charm so that you don't burn." Hermione mothered.  
  
"Huh?" Harry opened one eye to look in Hermione's direction.  
  
"Not you," Hermione replied, "Ron, you're as white as..."  
  
"What? Malfoy with a tan?" Ron grinned.  
  
"Yes, just about, and I would hate for your skin to lose its lily white complexion and start to match your hair."   
  
Harry couldn't stop his chuckle. Ron made a face and went to punch him lightly but Harry only rolled quickly out of the way.  
  
"Now that isn't fair, to hit a man while he's down." Harry laughed as he sat up. He sobered suddenly as if struck by a thought, "So you've seen him recently?" Harry asked, scooting closer to his friends.  
  
Hermione nodded, "Is it that obvious?" she asked.   
  
"Well," Ron took a moment to find the words the right words with which to explain without leading to bodily harm, "you're tongue becomes a bit more barbed after you've spent some time with him."  
  
Hermione frowned but wasn't particularly bothered. "We had coffee a few days ago." Ron made a noise in the back of his throat. "I was going to tell you later today, I would have told you before but I got very caught up with getting ready for school to start. He didn't have anything particularly interesting to say anyway. Just more 'Hermione, why don't you do something safe?' if someone else tells me to drop out of this I swear I'll start screaming."  
  
  
  
Ron sat forward and grabbed her hands, his face very serious, "Hermione, I've been giving this some thought and I think... Oww! I was only joking!"  
  
Harry didn't reply as he started to put his Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts book back that he had just used to smack his friend with back into his bag.   
  
"We had better get back inside." Hermione said stiffly as she got to her feet.  
  
"I was only joking." Ron said again. "Hermione," Ron grabbed her arm.  
  
"If you want me to quit Ron, tell me right now."  
  
It had started with Lavender and Parvarti before they had even left Hogwarts. Both girls were taking up apprenticeships with a pair of sister divinators in France. They had been horrified by her choice. Both girls had given Hermione the distinct impression that they figured she would be dead by Christmas.   
  
Ginny hadn't been any better. The Weasley girl hadn't come straight out said so, but she apparently believed that Hermione simply couldn't stand the thought of not being with Harry or Ron. Ginny thought that Hermione was going to follow them anywhere. The two girls had spoken some very unladylike words to each other. They had just begun to owl each other again last Monday.   
  
Didn't anyone see that Hermione was good at this? Didn't they see how she could solve almost any problem if they gave her a few hours and a book? She had useful skills to offer as an Auror, Hermione knew that she did. Why couldn't anyone else see it?   
  
Ron hadn't answered, Hermione frowned, "Ron, if you think..."  
  
"Hermione," He cut her off, "if you quit, then I quit too. I'm not doing this without you."  
  
Harry laughed, "You aught to stop being so insecure Hermione. I don't think this will work without you."  
  
Hermione smiled, embarrassed, "I do get a bit worked up, don't I?"  
  
Harry picked her bag up off the ground along with his own and shouldered it. Ron dropped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her along with them.  
  
"It's all right, you just need to spend more time with Malfoy, he always leaves you in a bit of cynical mood."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"There will no need for your wands in this class." Their newest instructor, Professor Bankotsu, told them with a slight accent toning his flawless English.  
  
He was a tall man with long, straight black hair that was pulled back and braided. His dark, almond shaped eyes met with each of theirs for a moment, sizing them up. He was quite handsome.   
  
Hermione, Ron, and Harry had him for the first time on their third day at Aylesbury. He was teaching yet another defense class. It was at least their third one. There had been a standard Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts that they'd had on Monday that class had been followed almost immediately by a Defense of Dark Creatures class, this subject had apparently become to broad to be covered by the standard class. There was also a defense class aimed at dealing with Potions but that wasn't until Friday.  
  
"We don't need our wands?" Hermione whispered to Harry.  
  
"What type of defense class is it?" Ron muttered to her.  
  
There were all sitting informally on a heavily padded floor. There were ten or so other students, no one that they had known from Hogwarts.   
  
"I don't know," Hermione replied, "the schedule doesn't say."  
  
"Now to begin, I would like everyone to please stand up and place your bags against the wall so that they will be out of our way."  
  
The students followed his instructions. While they began to drift back to their original places Professor Bankotsu began to remove his robe. Several students made sounds of disapproval at the thought of their professor undressing but as it turns out he was dressed underneath in a pair of loose fitting pants and matching white shirt with long sleeves. A black belt was tied expertly around his waste.  
  
"Are those pajamas?" Ron asked quickly in a hushed voice.  
  
Hermione shook her head, "no, you see clothes like that in a lot of Asian self-defense classes, like Karate or Tae Kwon Do."  
  
"Self Defense?" Harry queried louder than he had meant drawing the Professor's attention.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Potter, Self-defense." Professor Bankotsu stood before them now, his hands clasped easily before him.   
  
"Pardon me for interrupting," Another student, a girl with mousy black hair and a superior look that Hermione didn't like, cut in, "But why do we need a self defense class? You do mean physically, don't you? Isn't that's what a wand is for?"  
  
"What happens when you drop your wand, Ms. Furmage?" He asked easily as if expecting this question.  
  
The class immediately diverged into a very heated discussion. Hermione had no idea that some wizards were so opposed to learning Muggle techniques of defending themselves.  
  
Harry muttered, "You would think that aurors in training would want to learn as many ways to defend themselves as possible."   
  
"Hermione needs to learn how defend herself." Ron agreed, "For when Malfoy finally turns fully to the dark side and stops being such the charming gentleman." It was a continuous complaint of Ron's, he couldn't ever allow himself to entrust Malfoy with so much of Hermione's non-judgmental time.   
  
And with that Hermione suddenly found herself clenched between two very strong arms and hoisted off of the ground. She struggled vainly against Ron who was chuckling heartily into her ear.  
  
"Ron!" She snapped, trying to keep her voice low, "you put me down now!"  
  
"I'm not Ron, I'm Malfoy, remember?" Ron teased as he held her a bit higher up.  
  
"Ron, you're causing a scene," Harry tried to intercede gently but Hermione had just lost her temper.  
  
With a disgruntled growl Hermione brought her heel as hard as possible into his calf. With a stifled cry of pain he released her enough so that her feet could find purchase on the ground. Once they had she brought her foot down on his toes. His arms slipped from around her and Hermione shoved her elbow back into his chest. With a loud "Oomph" Ron fell to ground.  
  
"You, Ronald Weasley, are such a five year old! And I'll have you know that he's a thousand times the gentleman that you are!" Hermione huffed angrily, one finger pointing accusingly at the prone boy.  
  
"Ms. Granger?" Professor Bankotsu asked from behind her.  
  
All color faded from Hermione's face as she turned to look at her professor. "Oh... I... So sorry." She was able to stutter out before she turned abruptly on her heel and fled the class.  
  
"Now that girl," their Professor said in a pleased tone as he studied Ron on the floor, "she has had some self-defense training before."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione wrestled with her bedcovers for quite some time later that night.   
  
Ron was insufferable at times. He was childish, boorish, and possessed the maturity level of a toddler. He was one of her closest friends and she loved him more than she loved almost everything else but oh how she wanted to squeeze his lily-white neck until the freckles on his face matched his hair.   
  
Hermione didn't consider herself as being prone towards violence but Ron just seemed to bring it out in her sometimes. He had gotten better about most things. He had gotten over his brotherly possessiveness when it came to other boys expressing an interest in her, not that there were many. Ron no longer held her smarts against her. But he just couldn't ever lay off of Draco.  
  
No matter that Draco risked his life every time he saw her. No matter that he had provided valuable information time and time again. No matter that he had saved their lives just a few months ago. Ron couldn't forgive him for being what he was, a Death Eater, A Slytherin, but worst of all a Malfoy.  
  
Hermione rubbed her eyes sleepily. Draco couldn't help who he was. He needed her help and her understanding. And Ron would just have to accept that eventually. Hermione gave herself openly, and unquestioningly.   
  
She woke up with a start, the bleary-eyed sleepiness leaving her immediately as she fumbled for her wand. She wasn't alone; there was someone in her room.  
  
"Hermione?" A dry voice gasped.  
  
Hermione stopped looking for her wand and slid off her bed, coming around to the other end, to the cloaked figure in her room. "Draco?" She whispered in surprise, he hadn't been in her house since the summer before.   
  
He was shaking, the black cloak fluttering around him making it look like he was laughing silently. Hermione felt panicked as she grasped the cloak and pulled it away from him. He was unnaturally pale and his skin was wet and clammy.   
  
"Draco?" She said again more desperately. "What's wrong?" She asked even though before the words were out of her mouth she already knew that someone had used the Cruciatus curse on him.  
  
"B...bloody h..hell, Granger," He stuttered. He took a minute to try and regain some control over his body before he continued. "You need to make your bedroom unplottable. Any old p...pervert could pop in."   
  
"This isn't the time for joking!" Hermione snapped feeling tears burn at her eyes. She pulled him unceremoniously over to her bed and forced him to lie down. "Stay here, I'll find something for you."   
  
Draco's body was shaking so hard that the floorboards beneath were creaking. But Draco still managed to pull off a weakly roguish smile, "I've never refused a woman who's a...asked me to..." Draco broke off groaning as his tremors became suddenly more pronounced.  
  
Hermione slipped out of the room and headed down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey had given Sirius a potion when he had suffered large doses of the Cruciatus spell only a few months before but Hermione had never tried to brew it and it would take hours to do it now. She kept her potions in the bureau in the parlor. Hermione poured over the little stoppered bottles but nothing would help. She had nothing on hand that could help soothe his nerves.   
  
The ceiling above her groaned slightly and Hermione squeezed her hands together fretfully. She had to do something for him. Turning, her eyes fell upon her father's liquor cabinet. Hermione crossed the room at a dash and tore through it.   
  
"Well," she muttered aloud, "Dad always said that nothing could calm the mind like a good shot of whiskey." Hermione shuddered at the memory of the last time she had seen Draco intoxicated but there worse things at the moment. Hermione headed back up the stairs to her room.  
  
Draco was thrashing about when she pulled the door closed behind her. He seemed to be going in and out of consciousness much like Sirius had after Wormtail had attempted to break him.  
  
"How many times did they do it to you?" Hermione whimpered as she crawled onto the bed next to him, kneeling by his head.   
  
She pulled him up so that he was leaning against her bent knees, his sweaty blonde hair spread loosely across her lap.   
  
"Hermione?" He muttered as she twisted off the cap.  
  
"Here, I want you to drink this." She told him firmly tilting the bottle into his mouth before he could argue.  
  
He spluttered but didn't push her away. He swallowed once, twice, then once more before Hermione took the bottle away.   
  
"Granger," he groaned, "Where the hell do you get off drinking stuff like that? That's strong enough to melt a cauldron."   
  
Hermione smiled when he didn't stutter his words. "It's my father's, it was the best I could do."   
  
Draco squeezed his eyes shut as another set of tremors wracked his body but they weren't as strong as before. Hermione delicately ran her fingers across his forehead hoping to calm him even more.   
  
He shuddered again then rolled onto his side, pulling his legs up much like a child would and curled around her, his head pillowed even more pronouncedly in her lap.   
  
Hermione shied away from the close contact but tremors shook him again and he clutched at her. Giving in to the need to comfort him her hands found their way to his head again where she rubbed softly.   
  
"It gets worse," He spoke into the yellow cotton of her nightgown, "every time they do it, it gets worse."  
  
"Why did they torture you?" Hermione asked, "did they find out that you've been spying?"  
  
Draco laughed then harshly and pulled on her all the more tightly, "No, they know nothing, they just like to hurt each other. Today it was me, tomorrow it could be anyone." He began shaking again and Hermione slipped her arms around him and pulled him closer.  
  
"It's all right," She told him gently, rocking slightly, "you're safe here."  
  
"The only place that I am, you know."   
  
Hermione supposed that was true. It wasn't a happy thought.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	15. Time in the Kitchen

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jk! (Although I haven't forgiven her for Sirius yet!)  
  
Author Notes: I far prefer this chapter to the chapter 14, even though this one is very short. I do promise to get back onto the plot at some point! I will try to post again in two weeks but I make no promises. Please Read & Review!!!  
  
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Hermione had never considered her life to be normal. Once that letter sealed with the Hogwarts crest had announced that she was a witch, things had definitely become far more adventurous than the plain old muggle life she had been expecting. Strange twists and unusual occurrences were par for the course when one was a witch. Being an auror she had begun to expect the unexpected. But never before in her life had she ever been more surprised than she was at that very moment as Sirius Black kissed her.   
  
It was strange to be aware of so many things at once and yet be so solely focused on him. His left hand still held her arm gently, his fingers curled around her elbow. His right hand had come up to trace her jaw. His eyes were closed. His lips were soft. Hermione didn't return his kiss, but she didn't push him away either.  
  
His left hand loosened his grip and for a moment Hermione thought that he would pull away but instead his hand slid up her arm, caressed the skin of her neck before coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb softly rubbing a concentric circle there while his fingertips rested in the hollow below her ear. Hermione gasped as he squeezed his fingers gently there and an almost electric pulse shot all the way to the tips of her toes.   
  
Her suddenly open lips seemed to give him a second's pause before he took full advantage of it. His tongue was frighteningly possessive as it claimed her mouth. His hands tightened and Hermione knew that she had to stop this. Her own hands found their way to his wrists and she truly had intended to pull them away from her, to break this embrace, and talk some sense into Sirius. He couldn't possibly mean what he was saying or doing. She really had meant to pull away from him but as soon as her hands had clasped around his wrists his lips left hers. Never once had Hermione returned his kiss but now a part of her wished that she had. A part of her wished that she had let herself taste him instead of trying to ignore the feel of him.   
  
Hermione had very little time to ponder the strange twinge of regret for Sirius was far from done. His mouth was at the corner of her lips, then on her chin, then lightly trailing along her jaw, his lips pausing at her ear to nibble the lobe gently before slipping down her neck. Hermione melted.  
  
Her stiff body went limp and passive in his arms her hands no longer tight on his wrists but loose. Hermione felt her last shred on sanity and common sense falter in the wave of passion that she felt and she whimpered. Sirius stopped abruptly, his lips pulling back from her leaving the flushed skin exposed to the cold air. He pulled his head back far enough to look into her eyes. His eyes were black and glittering but worried.   
  
"Hermione?"   
  
Hermione found his intense gaze to be too over-powering and she squeezed her eyes shut. His hands left her face and entwined around her upper arms again.   
  
"Hermione?" He repeated more urgently. When she refused to respond he pulled her closer to him, his hands tight but gentle. "Hermione, look at me." There was desperation in his voice.   
  
When she still didn't answer his hands slid away from her. He stepped backwards and Hermione was cold without the warmth of his body against her. She opened her eyes to watch him retreat to the other side of the kitchen where he leaned against the opposing counter, his eyes studying the ground.   
  
"I...I shouldn't have done that. It was a mistake." But his voice was uncertain, as if given the choice to do it over again he would have gladly made the same mistake a thousand times over.  
  
She swallowed, her throat dry, a taste of something unfamiliar but enticing in her mouth. "I don't understand." She whispered.  
  
Sirius chuckled ruefully, "that would make two of us then."  
  
This wasn't the type of answer that Hermione wanted. Not when her heart was still beating so fast that she thought it might break. It wasn't the type of answer that she needed as it became harder for her to breath. Was he playing with her? It certainly wasn't something that she ever would have thought him capable of. Hermione felt an indignant flush rise up on her already pink cheeks.  
  
"If you just did that because you felt like...like playing with me then..." Hermione started angrily but stopped as Sirius grabbed her arm.  
  
"That's not it, Hermione, you aught to know me better than that." He growled his eyes flashing between emotions, unsure as to whether be angry or anxious.   
  
"But that's just it, Sirius," Hermione's voice was small under his dark gaze, "I don't know you at all really."  
  
The kitchen was suddenly flooded with light and Hermione jerked back from Sirius in surprise.   
  
"You'll never get to sleep if you start drinking coffee at 2am, Hermione." Draco said mildly as he leaned against the arch of the kitchen wall.   
  
His arms crossed loosely across his bare chest, his light hair falling every which way in an attractively tousled sort of way. Hermione didn't doubt for one moment that he hadn't noticed the tension between her and Sirius, not to mention the fact that her own hair looked like it had been pawed through.   
  
"So, you came back did you?" Draco asked Sirius casually, his eyes making a circuit up and down Sirius.  
  
"I would think that would be apparent." Sirius said lowly after a pause.  
  
Draco murmured noncommittally. He turned his eyes back to Hermione and smiled slightly. It was a look that Hermione was certain he had used many times before but she had never once seen from him.   
  
"Are you coming back to bed? It gets lonely without you there." He said smoothly, the seductive smile whispering of a good time.  
  
Sirius didn't say a word to her as he turned abruptly and left the kitchen. Hermione scowled at Draco as she followed after him. He went to Harry's room. He hadn't been in it since before the funeral. But that didn't seem to deter as he closed the door in her face.   
  
Hermione stood studying the dark wood of the door. Her hand curled into a small fist and she gently rapped her knuckles against it. "Sirius?" She asked quietly into it. "Sirius, please open the door. Draco was only being Draco. He does that to Harry and Ron all the time, or at least, he use to."   
  
There was no answer.  
  
Draco was looking in the cabinets when she returned to the kitchen.  
  
"I don't suppose you have any powdered creamer? I loathe the stuff but your milk has turned." He turned to look at her.   
  
Hermione slapped him.  
  
"Oww," He yelped stepping backwards his hand going to his cheek, "what was that for?"   
  
"You..." Hermione fumed as she stalked past him, forcing him away from the cupboard as she reached for a box behind the flour. "You are such a brat, Malfoy."  
  
"Oh, is that all?"   
  
"Is that all?" Hermione's voice rose dangerously as she smacked the box of dried milk on the counter.  
  
Draco held up his hands in front of him apologetically. "Look, I thought I would just help you get out of what looked to be a rather tense altercation with the resident murderer."  
  
"He's not a murderer! And didn't it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want your help?" Hermione grabbed great fistfuls of her nightgown to keep from throwing something.  
  
Draco waited as she gained control of her temper before he spoke again. "So you wanted to be part of that exchange?"  
  
Hermione froze. She had wanted to be part of it hadn't she? Hermione had wanted to finish that conversation with Sirius. It seemed suddenly as if they had been having the same conversation all week. Longer than that perhaps, maybe it had been hovering around them for years and she simply hadn't noticed it.  
  
She ran a hand through her still damp curls. "Would you please just stop making allusions to us sleeping together? We aren't and I certainly don't plan on us doing so."  
  
Draco gasped in mock pain and clutched a hand to his heart, "Granger no, don't say that. What will I have to live for if I now know that I will never have a chance to learn all the delicious curves of your body or the scent of..."  
  
"You're sleeping on the couch tonight too." Hermione cut him off before he could get too explicit.  
  
He sighed in defeat and slouched against the counter in an overt pout. He stirred his coffee with one finger, unconcerned with the heat. "You know, " he said after a moment, "you never cared when I said stuff like that in front of Potter and Weasley."  
  
Hermione began running water into her now empty mug, her back to him as she spoke, "well it's different with Sirius."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's always been different with Sirius."   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was different with Sirius. Hermione couldn't explain it, not even to herself. She lay on her bed staring up at the ceiling. One arm crossed under her head. Her fingers of the other hand traced her lips where his had been not so long ago. He had kissed her once before. In anger or fear or desperation she had never known. But even though she had been frightened of it and him she probably wouldn't have given it up. And Hermione knew without a moment's hesitation that even though she didn't understand what had happened in her kitchen only an hour ago, she wouldn't have given it up either.   
  
A small voice in her mind whispered that it would be nice to receive a kiss from Sirius without feeling so beaten and unsure of it afterward. He called her disgusting the first time after all. Not that that had stopped her from thinking about that kiss from time to time. Never in her life had she been kissed like that. Never had anyone kissed her like they needed her more than anything else.   
  
She had known that he hadn't meant to kiss her in her seventh year. Hermione had known that if he had been in a right state of mind he never would have made a mistake like that. But still, over the years she had come to cherish that kiss, she had imagined it to be the only one like it that she was ever meant to receive.  
  
That was before tonight. That was before Sirius had kissed her in much the same way as he had in her seventh year. What did it mean? He was in a right state of mind as far as she knew. He may just be suffering from spontaneous insanity, but Hermione didn't think that likely.  
  
"Maybe he kisses everyone like that." Hermione whispered aloud as her fingers touched her lips again.  
  
Not long after that Hermione drifted off into what could only be described as a highly unsettled sleep.   
  
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	16. The Trophy Wall

Disclaimer: I own noting.  
  
AN: Hi there! Bet you guys thought that I never going to update! Yeah, neither did I! I hadn't really thought much about this fic in a few months. I had figured that it was a defunct story. I felt guilty about that, of course, because I always hate it when an author doesn't finish something. But I couldn't help myself. Then on Monday, the 19th, it just came to me. The very first line of this chapter. And that was all it took. Once I had the first line I had all of it. Sorta funny, don't you think?   
  
As to the fate of this fic, I still can't make any promises that I'll ever finish it. I think that I am far more likely to finish now than I was 5 months ago. But again, we'll all just have to wait and see.   
  
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There was blood in her mouth. The metallic tang on her tongue was the first sign that her hastily erected shield had been a bad idea. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." She muttered under her breath.  
  
"Sorry about that," Ron said sheepishly as he pulled her to her feet.   
  
"You shouldn't be apologizing, Mr. Weasley, that was a brilliant use of a low level spell." Professor Mulciber said. "Had Ms. Granger been paying attention to your body language, she would not be bleeding right now."  
  
Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the blood from her chin. "Accio wand." She muttered.  
  
Professor Mulciber gave Hermione one hard, penetrating look before pointedly turning his back on her. "Can anyone tell me why Mr. Weasley's Expelliarmus spell had such a volatile effect on Ms. Granger?"  
  
He looked around expectantly, sharp blue eyes focusing on every student daring them to respond before moving onto the next student, offering the same challenge. There was no response to his question. The rest of the class appeared to be just as shocked at the outcome of Ron's spell as he had been when his Expelliarmus sent Hermione crashing into the wall.   
  
"No one?" Mulciber asked is amusement.  
  
Hermione used a quick sealing charm to stop her bleeding lip before she turned to face the retired Auror and Professor.  
  
"Yes," Professor Mulciber murmured. "Of course, you would know, Ms. Granger." There was a hint of annoyance shaded with something more ominous in his tone. "Please feel free to enlighten the rest of your class since they obviously felt it unnecessary to read their books."  
  
Hermione straightened her shoulders; her pride was already smarting from the losing the duel with Ron, so she chose to ignore the Professor's condescending tone.   
  
"I was too focused on my strategy." She began, one hand unconsciously playing with the sleeve of her hunter-green robe. "I didn't pay enough attention to Ron, I put up my shield to allow myself extra time for my following attack. Unfortunately, the shielding spell that I used reacts badly when exposed to Expelliarmus."  
  
"Indeed, it does react badly, as is apparent by your current state of disrepair. You should have been expecting it from Mr. Weasley; he rarely uses higher-level spells in his attacks. I expect better from you next time, Ms. Granger." He shot a look over his shoulder at her then announced in his steely voice, "Class is dismissed, I expect you all to be better prepared next week."  
  
Hermione sighed dejectedly and turned towards Ron and Harry who were waiting for her with identical expressions of commiseration.   
  
"I'm really sorry," Ron began immediately, "does it hurt?"  
  
Hermione waved his apology away with her hand. "It was my fault. I was under-estimating you."  
  
"No, you weren't," Ron replied, "You were overestimating me. You thought I would use a more powerful spell, not one that any old third-year can master in a few minutes." Ron's face fell.   
  
"I think that you're both being stupid." Harry cut in before Hermione and Ron could start to feel any more sorry for themselves then they already did. "You can't always tell what your opponent is planning." Harry shouldered his pack and lowered his voice, "and Professor Mulciber is an a..."  
  
Harry stopped abruptly as their professor cleared his voice behind them.  
  
"Ms. Granger, I would like to speak with you later. I understand that you have a physical defense class with Professor Bankotsu now, but I expect you to come by my office afterwards." His voice was low and falsely soothing, he didn't expect her to argue.   
  
And she didn't. Hermione only nodded before quickly making her escape along with Harry and Ron.   
  
"You know," She snapped as they hurried down the busy hallway, "I never thought we would have a teacher as disagreeable as Professor Snape but Mulciber consistently proves me wrong."  
  
"That man is such a bastard," Ron agreed as he pulled the door to their physical defense class open for Hermione.  
  
They were the first to arrive. The floor mats were folded against the far wall underneath the large windows that showed a scene of late spring splendor.   
  
"Oh no, not meditation," Ron groaned, "it's a lot more fun when we're kicking things."  
  
Hermione tutted, "Professor Bankotsu says that having a calm inner mind is the very first step to..."  
  
Ron interrupted, "I know, I know what he says. I am in the same class with you, Hermione. I do listen."  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at him in disbelief.  
  
"I do!" He exclaimed indignantly, "Well, most of the time."  
  
"I don't like how he looks at you." Harry said suddenly, his tone very serious, as he pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose.   
  
Confused Hermione asked, "What?"  
  
Harry flushed as if this was a topic that he didn't want to think about, let alone talk about. "I don't like how Professor Mulciber looks at you sometimes."  
  
Hermione laughed, "Well neither do I, Harry. He's always glaring at me."  
  
"I...I don't think that's what Harry is referring to." Ron muttered suddenly just as crimson as Harry.  
  
She looked at her two friends not quite understanding what they were talking about. Harry and Ron seemed to be implying that Mulciber was somehow interested in something other than nurturing her auroring skills. She laughed easily, "Don't be ridiculous. That man would rather curse me than look at me. Come on, we need to get changed."  
  
Hermione slipped into the antechamber to change into the loose-fitting gi that they wore for Professor Bankotsu's class. She didn't notice the look that they shared.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione brought her arms up above her head as she inhaled slowly. As she held her breath and her pose she couldn't help but worry about the upcoming meeting with Mulciber. Harry was right. The man was an ass.  
  
They had been in his class for seven months now. Their very first year at Aylesbury was quickly coming to a close. Hermione loved almost all of the classes. There was the all encompassing Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts taught by a rather pretty witch that Harry had become quite smitten with during the year named Honoria Nettles. There was a potions class that was held in a room with so many windows that Hermione could hardly remember the darkness of Snape's class. They had healing classes where Ron was beginning to really excel. There were classes devoted to research, classes on spell crafting. Both of those made Hermione giddy with excitement just to think about. There were classes on the laws of the ministry. There were classes dealing with Muggle interactions. Professor Mulciber's class was a dueling class. He was supposed to teach them how to fight one another as if they were bitter enemies.  
  
He had done nothing but single Hermione out since day one. Almost a whole school year later and he had yet to let up. The classes at Aylesbury were difficult enough without having a professor who seemed to have an agenda her.  
  
"This is ridiculous!" A low voice hissed out in the silent room.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes a fraction trying to locate the owner of the complaint. It wasn't hard. Gertie Scrimgeour had her arms crossed defiantly in her lap while she glared at Professor Bankotsu who sat in the middle of the room, his eyes still closed.  
  
"Is there a problem, Ms. Scrimgeour?" He asked softly without appearing to move at all.  
  
"I said that this is ridiculous."  
  
Most of the class had now abandoned their meditation poses to watch the interaction.   
  
"It's one thing to teach us self-defense. I think that it is a waste of my time to learn the best places to hit someone with my hand but I do it anyway. But this...this meditation mumbo-jumbo is simply useless!" Her voice rose shrilly forcing Hermione to wince.  
  
"It is indeed a shame that you think so, Ms. Scrimgeour. No one is making you stay but before you go rushing out in righteous indignation I ought to remind you that this class is required." Their Professor had yet to open his eyes.  
  
Gertie's face reddened but she didn't back down. "Fine." She snapped before bolting from the room.   
  
Hermione smiled to herself as a memory of doing a very similar thing herself came to mind.  
  
"Well, on that note I imagine that the tensions in the room are too strong for anymore productive meditation today." Their Professor opened his eyes and unfolded himself from his cross-legged position. "I hope that not all of you feel as negatively about this class as Ms. Scrimgeour does." He smiled, a twinkle in his dark eyes as he dismissed the class.   
  
Hermione stretched out her legs slowly. To her right she could hear Ron complaining as he tried to stand. They had been sitting in the same position for over an hour. She wiggled her toes quickly in an attempt to relieve the pins and needles sensation. Usually Hermione was able to separate her mind from her body and avoid the unpleasant sensations that accompanied lack of circulation.   
  
Ron wasn't very good at it. He was far too fidgety. It took him two whole months to learn to sit still. He was never able to understand that his mind was more than part of his body. After one of Professor Bankotsu's meditation classes he complained for hours of strained muscles and tired joints while Hermione generally felt relaxed and revitalized. But today was different. Today she had been unable to make the mental separation that a successful meditation required.   
  
She pressed slender fingers to her legs and began to apply light pressure in concentric circles.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
Hermione looked up at her Professor. "Yes Sir?"  
  
"Stay and talk with me a for a moment." He sat in front of her before she could answer returning to his earlier meditative position with his eyes closed and his legs crossed.   
  
They sat silently for a moment before Hermione prompted, "Professor?"  
  
"You seemed to be having difficulty in resting your mind this afternoon." Bankotsu said softly.  
  
Hermione flushed, she was starting to have an all around bad day. "I am very sorry, Professor. I am meeting Professor Mulciber in a few minutes and it has me distracted."  
  
Her professor opened his eyes at the mention of Mulciber's name. They flashed intensely for a moment before disappearing behind his normally complacent expression.  
  
"Forgive me," he apologized with a formal tone at seeing her slightly shocked expression. "Professor Mulciber and I rarely see eye to eye."  
  
Hermione noticed that Harry and Ron were standing near the door waiting for her. She waved them away with a quick whish of her hand. They nodded, smiled, and disappeared through the door.  
  
Professor Bankotsu followed this action with a watchful eye. When Harry and Ron were gone his attention returned to her again. "They are very protecting of you, your friends."  
  
Hermione blushed lightly, "just as I am of them."  
  
"Next year this class will be an elective."  
  
She nodded, "Yes, I knew that."  
  
"Have you thought about your specialization?" He questioned.   
  
Hermione sighed, she had been thinking about nothing else for at least two months now. The first year at Aylesbury was devoted to basic classes that every Auror would need. At the end of that year they were expected to pick a focus area. Their second year would be spent taking continuations of some of the basic classes as well as classes devoted to their area of interest. The third and final year would be taken up with advanced classes and if one was a lucky, an internship with an Auror who had specialized in their chosen field.  
  
"I haven't decided," Hermione replied honestly, "I was thinking of going into spell crafting. I've always enjoyed making my own spells."   
  
"Yes," he nodded, "that would probably be a good choice for you. But if I may, I would like to suggest something else."  
  
Hermione nodded quickly, "Of course, Professor." She was quite fond of Professor Bankotsu.  
  
"There is a school of magic that you rarely see this far west, it is quite common in my homeland but it has been long neglected here."   
  
Her professor stood quickly, gracefully, and crossed the room in long-legged strides. He produced a book from out of a small magical cupboard that Hermione had never even noticed before. He returned to her just as quickly. Hermione could tell that he was excited as he handed her the book.  
  
It was simple. Bound in old black leather that was dried and cracking from generations of use. Hermione opened it carefully and scanned the first page.  
  
"Is this Japanese?" She asked him.  
  
"Yes, I would like you to read through this book, I think you would be very suited to its teachings." He smiled warmly at her.  
  
"B...But I do not know Japanese, Sir." Hermione replied almost plaintively.  
  
Bankotsu grinned at her, "Is that going to be a problem?"  
  
Hermione looked thoughtfully back down at the book. A small, excited bubble was beginning to form deep inside her. What was Professor Bankotsu talking about? What was in the book? "No, Sir, that shouldn't be a problem."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
She had to wait for Professor Mulciber outside of his office. There were other offices branching off of the long hallway that she was waiting in. Several other Professors and Aurors had passed her by already. Most were oblivious to her presence but some seemed to slow down to properly look at her suspiciously.  
  
The high-backed mahogany chairs that lined the walls must have been made to be uncomfortable to their occupants. She had been stretching and turn for at least fifteen minutes in one and she was quite miserable. But Hermione tried not to dwell on the chairs for she had noticed almost at once that the thick wooden armrests were scarred with marks and indentations which made her think that manacles had once been part of the package.   
  
Hermione folded her hands in her lap. It wasn't like Hogwarts. If she had been waiting outside of Snape's office she should have been terrified. But for all of his dark looks and rude comments, Professor Mulciber was not Snape. He could be just as unpleasant as her old Potions teacher, but Hermione wasn't afraid of him. She was not sitting outside of his office, in a chair that may or may not have been used in some sort of torture, quaking in her terribly sensible shoes. No, Hermione was uncomfortable and annoyed, but she was far from frightened.   
  
A door to her right opened and Mulciber's quiet voice called out an invitation.  
  
Hermione rose stiffly, her bones aching as she left the chair. She felt a slight twinge of magic in the air and she scowled back at the offending object. He wouldn't purposely enchant it to be inhospitable, would he?   
  
Mulciber stood in the doorway. He was wearing the same dark robes that he had been wearing during class. His sandy brown hair was beginning to streak lightly with grey. Hermione knew that some of the other students found him to be handsome. His lips pulled back into a smile that didn't fit his face. And Hermione had fight back the urge to simply turn tail and run.   
  
Maybe she was just a little bit frightened of him.  
  
Hermione followed after her professor as he led her into his office. It was a lifeless room, a sterile room. It was nothing like the offices in Hogwarts. There had been Dumbledore's with all the interesting magical antiquities. McGongall had filled her office with books. Flitwick's office always had something that was sparking or glowing or dripping. Even Snape's office had been interesting, filled as it was with preserved potion ingredients. But Hermione had never been in an office like this before.  
  
The room was almost perfectly square. The floor was bare. The walls were without windows. A large desk dominated one side of the room. A few sheets of paper lay upon it but there were no personal items, no pictures of family or books. The walls were a utilitarian white. The only thing of interest in the room was the wall facing the desk.   
  
Hermione took an unconscious step forward, her eyes widening at the sight. The wall was covered from top to bottom in large, eight by ten sized, pictures of wizards. It took her only a moment to realize that not a single portrait was smiling. Some of the subjects were crying, some were shouting out at her angrily, while others had turned away shamefacedly.   
  
"This is my trophy wall." Mulciber told her softly from only a breath away.  
  
Hermione gasped and stepped quickly away from him. How had he gotten so close to her?  
  
"These are all the wizards that I sent to Azkaban while I was an active-duty Auror." He smiled at the wall almost dreamily.  
  
Hermione took another step further away from him. Then one picture in particular caught her eyes. The central picture was of Sirius Black. It wasn't a Sirius that she had ever known though. He was young and handsome. His eyes didn't bear the scars of Azkaban. But they did carry heartbreak. Horrible, agonizing heartbreak clouded his face at the loss of his three best friends: one to murder, one to betrayal, and one to doubt. The young Sirius looked away from her as if ashamed. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen anything so heart wrenching before.  
  
"See someone that you recognize?"  
  
She had almost forgotten about her professor's presence. "N...no, of course not." Hermione replied; not as firmly as she would have liked.   
  
If he heard her slight stutter he ignored it. "This wall marks my triumph over the dark wizards. Over half of the guests on this wall have received the Dementor's Kiss." He said proudly, his cerulean eyes shining in admiration of himself. "The other half will spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban." He stepped past her towards the wall. "All but this one." He pointed at Sirius' picture.   
  
The portrait of Sirius looked up suddenly and smiled at Mulciber. The gleam in his eyes reminded Hermione of the time he taught her proper chess.   
  
"Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban almost six years ago." Mulciber's eyes narrowed and he ran a hand through slicked back hair. "Nothing would give me more pleasure than to kill that man myself."  
  
Hermione was watching him closely. She did not like this meeting at all.  
  
"I've decided to return to active duty at the end of this term. I've been gone for to long. With the threat He Who Must Not Be Named returning, my skills shall be needed." He looked at her now as it expecting a response.   
  
Was this what he wanted to discuss with her?  
  
"I don't see what this has to do with me, Sir." She told him while taking a cautious step backward.  
  
"Don't you?" He asked following her example as he stepped towards her. "Nothing could further my career like recapturing the fugitive Black. And I believe that you can help me with that."  
  
Hermione forced a shaky laugh. "I certainly don't see how."  
  
Mulciber turned from her to look back at Sirius' picture. "I've been doing research into his escape and subsequent pursuit. As it turns out his goal in escaping was to kill Harry Potter. But he managed to disappear right out from under the Minister of Magic himself. All that was left in the wake of his flight were three little children who staunchly defended the man's innocence." He stepped closer to her. "I don't have to name names, do I?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and shrank another step backwards.  
  
"Then again, another interesting little piece of information surfaced from three years ago. Black was severely wounded by a team of Aurors. Apparently they cornered Black but he escaped once again. They did manage to catch a girl though, a girl they believed to have aided in his escape, a girl named Hermione Granger." He continued to advance on her.   
  
"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Hermione snapped defiantly. "You must have known this for a while, why bring it up now?"   
  
He closed in on her and Hermione suddenly found her backside meeting a very solid desk.   
  
"Why indeed?" He asked his voice low, hushed.  
  
Hermione swallowed nervously. This was not the conversation that she had expected.   
  
"I bring it up now because last week Black was almost caught in Gloucester. But again it was as if Black had been forewarned of our coming. His hiding place was empty when the Aurors arrived. Empty except for a blank letter."  
  
"A letter?" Hermione questioned softly.  
  
A wolfish smile spread across his face as he leaned closer to her and placed a hand on the desk to either side of her.  
  
"The letter was addressed to 'Hermione'." He said gently. "Now isn't that interesting.  
  
Hermione struggled to understand, Sirius writing her a letter? But he never wrote her letters. "I'm afraid that Black must be writing to a different Hermione, Sir. I see no reason why he would be writing to me." It was almost painful to speak the bitter-tasting truth.   
  
He tutted softly, almost gently, "I would be thankful for any information that you have. I can be a very generous man, Hermione, and I'm sure that we can help each other in many ways."  
  
Her eyes widened at her given name and the insinuation. She seemed to become aware of the highly compromising position that she was in. "I have to go, Professor, I'm sorry that I can't be of help to you but there really is nothing that I can tell you about Sirius Black." Hermione tried to push past him but he grasped her arm hard and jerked her back.   
  
"I'm not done with you yet." He growled angrily before descending upon her in a painful kiss.  
  
Hermione struggled fruitlessly against him while a part of her mind refused to believe that one of her teachers was forcibly kissing her. One of his hands grasped a handful of her hair and he pulled it hard to the left, forcing her head down, allowing him access to her exposed neck which he suddenly assaulted with angry bites and not so soft kisses.  
  
He paused for a moment, his breath rushing unevenly against her skin. "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful hair?"  
  
The foreign compliment, while probably meant to help soothe her into compliance, had an adverse effect as the part of her mind that was denying the plausibility of this interaction suddenly realized that it was indeed happening.   
  
Hermione brought her knee up into his rather hard crotch and had the pleasure of watching his face go grey. He staggered back mouthing angrily at her.  
  
"Y...you b...bitch." He groaned.  
  
Hermione straightened her robes with trembling hands. "You stay the hell away from me, Professor." She hissed before rushing from the room.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was short. It was shorter than Hermione could ever remember it being outside of her baby album.  
  
"You look so beautiful, Hermione, love. I've been wanting you to get your hair cut short for years!" Her mum said in a pleased voice that sounded as if she might break down into tears of happiness at any moment.   
  
Hermione reached up to tuck her bobbed hair back behind her ear. The muggle in the shop had put something into her cinnamon colored locks after the slaughter that made her too short hair tighten into shiny spirals. Hermione did admit that the look was flattering, flirty even. But she had always loved the length of her hair.  
  
It had about broken her heart to sit in that chair and watch the long curls disappear. Hermione figured that it might have been one of the most traumatic experiences that she had ever gone through.   
  
But she could still feel his hand in her hair. She could still feel his breath on her neck as he complimented her. She could still feel the violated outrage.  
  
"Bastard." Hermione muttered into the silence of her bedroom.  
  
She had fled that office the day before in a state of warring emotions. Absolute shock was foremost in her mind followed quickly by panicked fear. But by the time she found Harry and Ron, who had been desperately looking for her, complete fury had won out.  
  
Hermione explained in very clipped words what Mulciber had to say about Sirius. But she refused to discuss anything else that had occurred while she was with him. But Harry and Ron weren't idiots. Hermione had no illusions as to whether or not they had figured out some of the more gory details. Hermione imagined that it hadn't been hard, what with her disheveled appearance and bruised lips.   
  
Hermione vowed not to think about Mulciber anymore. She wouldn't have to see him for a whole other day and after that it was only two weeks before her first year at Aylesbury came to an end. If she was lucky, Mulciber would be placed back on active duty and Hermione would never have to see her dueling professor again.  
  
She left her muggle clothes in a pile on the floor then slipped into a pair of butter yellow pajamas and climbed into her favorite chair in the entire world. It was an ancient brown, velour recliner that had once belonged to her grandfather. When he passed away a few years ago it had been the only thing that she wanted. No matter how grown-up she became Hermione could sit in this chair, close her eyes, and feel her grandfather as he held her on his knee, she could hear him reading one of her favorite fairy tales. It anything could settle her rattled nerves it was a little bit of time spent in this chair reading.  
  
Hermione settled herself comfortably in the recliner with her legs thrown casually over an armrest. In her lap rested a large Japanese to English dictionary and the book from Professor Bankotsu. But try as she might Hermione couldn't really focus on her schoolwork.   
  
Had Mulciber been telling her the truth? Had there really been a letter with her name on it? Sirius had never written her a letter. Even when they had been on good terms, when they had been friends, the only correspondence that he sent was to Harry.  
  
But Hermione couldn't dismiss the plausibility of it. How many Hermiones could Sirius know? Seriously? It wasn't as if her parents had graced her with a common name.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and pictured Sirius as she had last seen him laying there on that bed in the hospital wing his eyes desperate as he tried to tell her something, as he called her disgusting. Hermione frowned, it wasn't as if that had been her first kiss or her last kiss since but whenever she thought about the subject of kissing it was the first one that sprang to mind. It had been angry, painful, and all encompassing.   
  
Hermione missed him. Hermione worried about him. How she wished that he really would right her a letter. Just a short one, just to let her know that he was all right, that he was taking care of himself. That he wasn't lonely.   
  
Hermione sighed; she knew that she would be up all night thinking about him. How was it that Sirius Black kept managing to insinuate himself in her life?   
  
A sudden draft whished through her room and teased the back of her bare neck. Hermione gasped and clapped both hands protectively over the sensitive skin that wasn't use to such abuse. "I'm never going to get use to this haircut!" She gasped with a shiver.   
  
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	17. Invasion of Privacy

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
AN: Well hopefully there will be another two chapters in a couple of weeks. I'm not making any guarantees though. Thank you so much to Vegeta my beta-reader and to all of you that have reviewed. Especially thank you to those that have been waiting patiently, and not so patiently, for me to update.  
  
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She was dreaming. Hermione knew that she was. There wasn't any other explanation for what she was seeing. Harry and Ron weren't dead. It wasn't possible. She knew with every fiber of her body that she was not in a dark cave looking at the bloodied bodies of her two best friends.   
  
She rubbed her eyes.  
  
It didn't help.  
  
"This isn't real." Hermione told herself. "This is only a dream."  
  
"Yes child, tell yourself that if it helps."   
  
Hermione spun from Harry and Ron to face the owner of the voice. The owner in robes as black as melted evil was standing only a few feet from her. His crimson eyes flashed in amusement.   
  
"Voldemort." Hermione whispered, her voice fragile but holding.   
  
  
  
"You would be surprised how many people in your situation have also blamed their dreams for their current predicament."   
  
"But I really am dreaming." Hermione told him desperately, "I know that I am."  
  
He began walking towards her and Hermione backed up equally for each of his steps. Her dark blue robes rubbed against the dank wall behind her and she stopped. Voldemort reached out one white hand to touch her cheek. It was icy, frozen, and Hermione flinched away from it.  
  
"I feel real enough, do I not?"   
  
Hermione closed her eyes tightly willing herself to wake up. She ignored the caress of his breath on her cheek. She ignored the cold that emanated off of his body. She ignored the stench of blood in the air. "It's only a dream. Only a dream. I'll wake up. I'll wake up." Hermione began repeating to herself.  
  
"You seem so determined." His voice was soothing.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes. His red ones were mere inches from hers.  
  
"Tell me child, how do you know that this is a dream and not a nightmare come true?" His perfect white teeth glinted like fangs in the low light of the cave.  
  
Hermione took a steadying breath as she suddenly felt more secure. "I know that this is a dream because I won't let them die first."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was so very warm. Her eyes opened slowly. It was too warm. She tried to sit up but a heavy weight was pressing into her back, making her efforts harder.  
  
"Draco?!" She cried out as she shoved him off of her bed.   
  
"Huh? What?" He mumbled sleepily from the floor.  
  
Hermione snatched her wand up from the small bedside table and turned on a lamp with a quick flick. She leaned over the bed and scowled angrily at the young man. "What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed?" She said every word slowly while trying to keep her voice down.  
  
"Well, I don't know what you do in beds, Hermione. But I was trying to sleep." He rubbed at his grey eyes and yawned.  
  
"I know that you were sleeping." Hermione hissed, "You were practically sleeping on top of me!"   
  
His eyes brightened, "I was?"  
  
Hermione fumed, "This isn't funny! I thought I told you to sleep on the couch?"   
  
"What?" He mumbled as he stood up. "Oh yeah, you did. Not very comfortable, you do realize that, right? Seriously, Hermione, if I had been aware of the shoddiness of your living room furniture I would have bought you a new set for your birthday."  
  
She wasn't about to let him change the subject. Hermione grabbed a glass of water off her bedside table and shook it warningly at him. "Draco..."  
  
He quickly stepped backwards and held up his hands. "Mercy, please. I was sleeping out there but your convict came out a few hours ago and started doing things. I couldn't get a wink of sleep with him pottering about. And you know I need my beauty sleep, Granger." He gave her his most adorable little boy grin.  
  
Hermione lowered the glass of water, "What type of things?"   
  
Draco approached the bed cautiously and Hermione crawled backwards on it allowing him some room to sit down. He stretched again, purposely flexing his bare back enticingly. Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew that Draco couldn't be rushed. He was too much of a peacock to let a chance to show off his physique go unfulfilled. Finally done preening, Draco fluffed a pillow and slumped backwards with an exaggerated yawn.   
  
"He was looking through your books. Your notes too."  
  
Hermione shot off the bed in a jumble of bed sheets. She spun on him, her eyes bright and furious. "And you let him!"   
  
Draco sat up and studied her. His teasing attitude had vanished. "Is there a reason why he shouldn't?"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth once or twice wordlessly before spinning on her heal and sprinting out of her room.  
  
Draco sighed, rolled over, and pulled the blanket up over his head.  
  
Sirius was sitting at her desk. Her journals and papers were spread everywhere. Her most private possessions were laid bare before him. On the desk in front of him, on the floor around him, on the sofa, there were even some on the old telly. He held a paper of hers from her second year at Aylesbury in his hands.  
  
"Wh...what are you doing?" Her voice was trembling.  
  
Sirius glanced quickly over his shoulder at her. He was so engrossed in his reading that he hadn't heard her leave the bedroom. His dark eyes lingered on her face for longer than was necessary before drifting back to the paper in his hands. "I never knew that you studied with Bankotsu Schichinintai while you were at Aylesbury."  
  
"Those are mine." Hermione said quickly ignoring his questions.  
  
"He is a master in his field. You rarely see teachers of the Reinou-Senkennomei outside of Asia. From everything that I've heard he's an amazing man." His voice was very soft.  
  
Hermione took a step towards him. It was dim in the living room. Her small desk lamp was on but through the windows she could see the sky beginning to lighten into early morning. "Those are mine." She repeated desperately.  
  
Sirius continued on as if he hadn't heard her. "Remus wanted to study with him. Did you know that he thought about becoming an Auror too? Wouldn't take him because of his being a werewolf though."  
  
"Sirius!" Her voice was high and she was starting to feel light-headed, a sure sign that tears were not far off.   
  
"Harry never mentioned him. But then Harry never seemed to like to tell me anything that you were doing if he could help it." Sirius smiled ruefully. "He always looked out for you."   
  
Hermione's voice was bordering on hysterical. "Why have you done this?"  
  
  
  
"Why have I gone through all your work?" Sirius turned to look at her again. "I thought that would have been obvious."  
  
Hermione shook her head quickly as she stooped to pick up a journal from her Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class that she had taken several years ago. "No, it's not obvious." Her tone was sharp.  
  
He was going through her most prized possessions. Pawing through them like they meant nothing. Didn't he understand that her work, her research, her knowledge was all part of her soul? How could he do this? These papers meant so much to her. There were so many secrets hidden inside of them. Hermione felt sick. She clutched the journal to her chest with one hand while the other one pinched the bridge of her nose.  
  
Sirius seemed to realize that he was in very deep trouble for he stood quickly. "I wasn't snooping," he said defensively, "if that's what you think."  
  
"Tell me what you were doing then?" Hermione snapped, eyes finally filling with tears that she would have sold her soul to keep bottled up. "Are you looking for my Death Eater Registration card? Here, let me help you." Hermione stepped past him to one of her bookshelves and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This is where I keep all my hidden correspondences. Maybe I have a letter to Voldemort here!" She reached into the sheaf and pulled out a handful of cards. "Oh no, sorry, these are all birthday cards from my grandparents. But maybe if you read them very closely you'll discover some nasty piece of incriminating evidence."  
  
"Hermione," Sirius tried to interject but she wasn't listening.  
  
"Wait," Hermione waved a shaking hand at him, "wait, if that doesn't help you then maybe these will." She dropped the letters to the ground.   
  
Sirius visibly flinched at the shower of brightly colored cards with little girls in sunbonnets emblazoned upon them.   
  
Hermione crossed to another bookshelf and pulled out a journal. "Here, here are all the notes that I took in my seventh year Potions class. Don't mind the sulfur stains on page twenty-four that was Neville's fault. But maybe in here you'll find the recipe for the potion that I used to make Harry and Ron like me. But no, I think this one is all class-work oriented." Hermione dropped this to the floor too and turned around, scanning the bookshelves. "Where oh where did I put that 'I am so very evil' manifesto that I wrote up last year."  
  
"Hermione, please..." Sirius tried again.  
  
Hermione moved quickly past him as he reached for her. "Ah-hah! Here it is! The single most damning piece of evidence!" Hermione wiped angrily at the tears on her face as she rummaged through a drawer in her desk and pulled out a small slip of paper. "Oh no, that's my Christmas list." Hermione was trembling.  
  
"Hermione," his voice was low, pleading. "Hermione, stop this, you're hysterical."  
  
  
  
She let the paper flutter to the ground. Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "Tell me Sirius, tell me what you're looking for." The anger was gone from her liquid brown eyes leaving only pain.   
  
He sent a whole sheaf of parchment to the floor in his rush to reach her. "Please don't cry anymore." His voice was desperate. Sirius raised his hands to take her shoulders but he couldn't seem to be able to bring himself to touch her. Whether he was afraid that she would push him away or because of some other reason Hermione couldn't tell. "I hadn't meant any harm. I only wanted to understand."  
  
Hermione lowered her head unable to look him in the eyes. "Understand what? How I could betray my best friends?"  
  
"No, damn it, I know that you didn't betray them." He did grab her now in order to give her a shake, "I wanted to understand you."  
  
"Me?" His answer so surprised her that she stopped crying. "What is that supposed to mean?"   
  
"I don't understand you at all, Hermione." His hands loosened but didn't let go. "I've never understood why you were willing to put yourself into such danger. You've always been this way. Always willing to fight the fight that nobody else wanted."  
  
Hermione didn't know what to say.  
  
"I don't know how to deal with someone who is so selfless. But I want to."   
  
"I'm not selfless." Hermione sniffed, "I do lots of selfish things. I never share my cookies. And I never let Ron or Harry copy from me. And once I spent so much money on a robe that I didn't need that I had to borrow from Harry!"  
  
Sirius gently pulled her to him, his arms encircling her back, his chin resting perfectly atop the crown of her hair.   
  
Hermione went rigid at this contact. A few hours ago she had been in a very compromising position with him in the kitchen but she was acting now, for all intents and purposes, as if he had never touched her in his life.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione." Sirius squeezed her a little bit tighter. "I'm sorry for thinking that you might in some way be responsible for Harry and Ron. I'm sorry that I blamed you simply because there was no one else to blame." He leaned farther down, curving her body against his, his cheek resting now against her temple. "I'm sorry for your loss."  
  
Hermione melted.  
  
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	18. Visiting the Werewolf

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Author Notes: So here are the next two chapters, obviously. They would have been out two weeks ago but there was an issue that doesn't really need to be mentioned here so I will let it go. :) (Just keep the damn cookie in mind, Vegeta.) Anyhoo... I was thrilled by the response that I received from the last two chapters. I didn't deserve it. I really did feel bad about my lack of posting but the 5th book just about broke my heart. But again, thank you so much!  
  
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Hermione yawned and leaned her head back against the edge of the worn sofa. Ron was snoring from where he lay behind her on it. He moved slightly in his sleep and one hand was suddenly resting heavily on her shoulder. Hermione muttered darkly and crawled across the floor to where Harry was sitting cross-legged by the fireplace.  
  
"I thought you were asleep." He whispered as she settled next to him.  
  
"When there is studying to be done? Don't be ridiculous, Harry." She reached past him and chose an open book from the clutter on the floor. "I'm never going to be good at that regenerative charm."   
  
She reread the spell with such a glum expression that Harry chuckled.  
  
"Well it's about time that there was something you aren't good at."   
  
"I'm not very good at chess." Hermione replied quickly, her intellectual prowess had always been a bit of a sore subject for the three.  
  
"You're much better now." Harry smiled, the flickering fire casting shadows across his face.  
  
Hermione pushed the book away, it really was a lost cause, and tucked her knees up under her chin. "Well Sirius showed me a few tricks during our sixth year."   
  
Harry slipped his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt, "I'll bet he did," he muttered so quietly that Hermione almost didn't catch it.  
  
"What was that?" Her near shoulder length hair bobbed around her face as if echoing her surprise.  
  
Harry slipped the glasses back on before looking at her, really looking at her, "Did something happen, between the two of you, I mean."  
  
Hermione nearly choked. She was very thankful for the shifting light of the fire, it would be hard to see her blush, even with Harry as close as he was.   
  
"Why would you think that something happened, Harry?" Hermione whispered unaware that her voice had dropped.  
  
Harry shook his head and looked away from her towards the fire. "I don't know. He's just odd about you sometimes."  
  
Hermione frowned. "Odd?"  
  
Harry was saved from having to explain his meaning by the opening and closing of a distant door. They both turned towards the sound and a moment later Ginny Weasley poked her head into the Weasley parlor and looked at them. Her thick red hair was twisted back fashionably and she was wearing a set of tight fitting robes that Hermione thought were almost a bit unseemly. Her bright eyes lightened at Hermione then darkened considerably at Harry.  
  
"'Lo Hermione." She called softly to the other girl, careful not to wake her brother.  
  
"Hi Ginny, you're getting back awfully late, aren't you?" Hermione felt Harry shift uncomfortably next to her.  
  
"I had a date, I'm sure that Mum would have mentioned it." Ginny's voice turned cold but Hermione knew that she wasn't speaking to her anymore.   
  
"Anyway," Ginny continued, "It is awfully late. Why don't we make plans to have lunch this week, Hermione?"   
  
Hermione nodded and smiled. Ginny withdrew from the parlor. The room was very quiet excepting for Ron's snores.  
  
"So," Hermione stretched her arms up above her head, "Still won't give you the time of day, will she?"   
  
"Was it that apparent?" Harry replied dejectedly.  
  
Hermione couldn't help the delicate giggle that emerged from her mouth. "You sound lovesick, Harry."  
  
Harry muttered something completely unintelligible before pulling a book onto his lap thus signifying that their conversation had just come to a definitive end. Hermione watched him for a moment or two before closing her eyes and resting her head on her knees.  
  
She couldn't blame Ginny, of course, Harry did deserve the silent treatment. They had been quite the item at the beginning of summer. There had even been a mention of marriage in late July, but Hermione thought that Mrs. Weasley might have had more to do with that then either Harry or Ginny. But needless to say, things had turned sour quite quickly. Apparently sometime in mid August Harry ran into Honoria Nettles, one of their previous Professors. Hermione never quite got a straight answer out of Harry on just what occurred between the two of them but whatever it was it had ended his relationship with Ginny quite irrevocably.  
  
Hermione had been quite shocked over his behavior but it was Harry; her Harry, she couldn't hold anything against him. Ron had just been thrilled that Harry was no longer seeing his baby sister. It had been a rather sticky situation for everyone involved.  
  
The book slowly slid from Harry's hands to the floor. Hermione looked at it for a moment before carefully picking it up and marking his place. With a major exam looming at the end of the week in their Healing Charms class they had been studying all evening. Hermione was worried about it. Ron had a natural gift for it though, and Hermione had been insisting on a very rigorous study schedule so that she could glean as much help from him, as he was able to give.   
  
But as it often happened, Hermione could no longer keep her mind on the task at hand. What had Harry meant about Sirius being odd? What was that supposed to mean?   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
"You are not concentrating, Hermione."   
  
She opened her eyes. Ban was right, of course, but then again her Professor almost always was. It was those damn empathic abilities of his.   
  
"I know, I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione slumped forward slightly, "I'm not sure where my mind is today."  
  
"Then we should stop for today."   
  
He stood lightly and Hermione followed suit. Her stumpy ponytail grazed distractingly against the curve of her neck. With a low mutter she pulled the band loose and shook out her hair. It would take forever to reach the length that it once had. Hermione was willing to spare the time to grow it out but the in between stage where it teased against sensitive skin was beginning to drive her crazy. Hermione scratched mindlessly at her neck not paying any attention to her professor as he watched her openly.  
  
"Something is on your mind." He stated.  
  
Hermione stopped scratching, "No, not really, just a little anxious I suppose."  
  
Ban gestured her over to a low sitting table in the corner of his office. They had been meeting there privately on the weekends since her second year at Aylesbury had begun. She had chosen spell crafting as her specialization sometime in July. It had been a difficult choice. The opportunity to learn the arts of Reinou-Senkennomei had been a tempting idea to put it mildly. But in the end, Hermione had chosen her true love.   
  
Professor Bankotsu had not wanted to take no for an answer. And Hermione had always had an unquenchable thirst to please her teachers. They had finally reached an agreement. In Hermione's spare time, weekends generally, she would meet her professor in his office at school where he would teach her everything that she could learn. Which, Professor Bankotsu was starting to realize was quite a lot.   
  
Hermione kneeled gracefully at the black wood table. Her folded hands rested in her lap. She watched as Bankotsu silently brewed the tea in a small earthen kettle over a magicked fire.   
  
Tea was a regular part of their meetings. Hermione had not understood the necessity of it at first. But as the weeks had gone by she had begun to realize that the daily tea was more ritual than relaxation. The tea represented a great deal of the Reinou-Senkennomei beliefs. Through practiced stillness and quiet introspection one could gain a new view on the world around them; heightened senses so to speak.   
  
It had been a particularly hard concept for Hermione to wrap her brain around. She had always been more comfortable with things that could be learned from books. There were very few books dealing with what Bankotsu was teaching her and the books that did exist reminded Hermione far more of poetry than anything else.  
  
"You must be able to calm yourself more." Bankotsu said gently.  
  
Hermione looked up, a little surprised, tea was normally drunk in silence. "I know, but I've always been a little high-strung."  
  
Bankotsu straightened where he sat. With one long fingered hand he brushed back his black braid over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, hands resting on the table. Hermione bit back a sigh and copied his pose.  
  
"I want you to let go of whatever is plagueing your thoughts. Breathe in deeply and smell the tea. You haven't tasted it yet, what is it?" His voice was so soft in the quiet room.  
  
Hermione breathed deeply, forcing herself not to focus on the task at hand. "Ginger tea." She answered, almost flinching at how loud her voice sounded in the room.  
  
"What color is your cup?"   
  
It had been brown, antiquely crackled, but Hermione knew that it wasn't now. Damn him, he knew that she wasn't good with colors. Hermione kept her eyes closed and continued to breathe. She could feel the air around her, the soft circulation of air caused by their breathing. It moved gently around her and him. It was all over, under the table, brushing idly against the walls, against the cups on the table.  
  
"Blue," She said quickly. "It's a blue now."  
  
Silence and then, "Are you certain?"  
  
Hermione sucked in her lower lip and concentrated she could almost see it, "Yes, it's blue."  
  
"Look to make sure."   
  
Hermione opened her eyes; the once brown cup was indeed blue.   
  
"You still do not have trust in your own judgment. When the time comes and you need to rely on your other senses you must be able to believe what your inner eye tells you." His dark eyes watched her warmly.   
  
Hermione slouched dejectedly. "It's not coming very easily to me. I'm use to learning things quickly."  
  
"Just because something is hard does not mean that it is not worth your time to learn." There was no disapproval in his tone, just simple honesty.  
  
Hermione lifted her cup of tea to her lips and gingerly sipped at the golden liquid. "Ron thinks that it sounds a good deal like divination."  
  
"Do you agree with him?"  
  
"Well, no, not really. But it seems to have similarities. You don't use a wand, only your mind. I feel like I'm just guessing at things most of the time." Hermione swirled the tea.  
  
"If you are guessing, Hermione, then you are very lucky." He smiled.   
  
"But then, you're not predicting the future at all, unlike divination." Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I hate divination. I don't hate this."  
  
"Yes, I gathered that you harbored some negative feelings for that area of magic." His slight smile broke out in a boyish grin. "But you are right, Reinou-Senkennomei does not allow you to predict the future, only heighten your awareness of your surroundings. Shall we try again? Close your eyes."  
  
Hermione did as she was told, forcing the thoughts from her head, trying to keep her mind clear.  
  
"Breathe deeply and listen. Outside there is a tree. In the tree there is a bird, what kind is it?"   
  
Hermione tried not to frown, the window was closed, the room was so quiet. But outside of the window Hermione knew that there was a tree. So she thought of the tree and she thought of the bird in the tree. It was windy outside; Hermione could almost feel it on her skin. The sun was hanging low on the horizon; cool autumn air brushed her hair back. She could almost see into the tree. She could almost see the bird.  
  
"A kestrel," she whispered, her voice and mind far away, "it's a kestrel."  
  
Bankotsu smiled again and leaned towards his young protégé, "what type of tree is it?"  
  
Hermione frowned unknowingly. She could almost see the leaves they were large and dark. She could almost feel the wind that blew through them. The name of the tree was on the tip of her tongue.  
  
Panic shot through her head in a blindingly painful crash. Hermione gasped, eyes shooting open, she stumbled awkwardly to her feet. The small table shook as she bumped it almost upsetting the tea.  
  
"Hermione?" Bankotsu rose with her, worry apparent on his face.  
  
She paid him no mind, every fiber in her body was focused on the connection that she had with Ron and Harry. But there was nothing, nothing at all, which was strange in of itself. She could usually always feel something coming off of them. There was always some niggling little emotion in the back of her mind that wasn't her own. If that was gone it could mean only two things, something had happened to them, or they were purposely trying to block her out. Neither scenario sat well with the young woman.  
  
"Hermione? What is it? What happened?"   
  
She looked up at her professor. Hermione had quite forgotten about him. "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm feeling a bit unwell. I think I had better go."  
  
"What happened? Everything was going smoothly." His hand clasped gently around her arm.  
  
"Nothing happened, I just have to go, please forgive me."  
  
"If something went wrong you must tell me." His eyes were insistent.  
  
Hermione gently pried his hand from her. "I assure you that what happened had nothing to do with the Reinou-Senkennomei. It is something completely else. Everything will be fine, but I have to go."  
  
He opened his mouth but Hermione, very uncharacteristically, interrupted him.  
  
"Please don't ask me. I do not want to lie."   
  
He nodded finally, apparently against his better judgment, and Hermione fled the room.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
She apparated directly to the Weasley's front door. Harry had been staying with Ron ever since the end of their Seventh Year. They had planned to spend the afternoon loafing about the house and maybe listening to the Canon's game on the Wizard radio. Before Hermione could even knock on the door she knew that they weren't there. But she knocked anyway.  
  
"Hermione?" Ginny questioned as the younger girl answered the door. "What are you doing here? Ron said that you had some sort of meeting with a professor today."  
  
"They're not here, are they? Where did they go?" Hermione asked quickly forgoing all pleasantries.  
  
"Uh, I'm not sure where they went." Ginny frowned as she thought. "They got a letter a few minutes ago, said they wouldn't be back for supper, and left."  
  
"Who was the letter from?"   
  
"Look Hermione," Ginny was sounding a bit annoyed, "I may work at the Dailey Prophet but I'm not that nosy."   
  
  
  
Hermione ignored the irritation in her friend's voice. "Please, Ginny, this is important. Did they say anything before leaving?"  
  
"Has something happened?" Ginny asked with a worried wrinkle beginning to mar her forehead. "Are they in trouble?"  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione snapped in exasperation. "Did they say anything?"  
  
Ginny's face was very pale by now. "Harry mentioned getting potion ingredients from the apothecary. But I don't know..."  
  
Hermione was gone with a loud pop before Ginny could finish her sentence.  
  
Usually, one was expected to apparate to certain designated areas in Diagon Alley. It was frowned upon to simply pop from place to place. It was usually so crowded that there was a very high risk of apparating right on top of some poor, unsuspecting wizard.  
  
Hermione, however, threw caution and social niceties to the wind and apparated directly into the Apothecary shop. One little old wizard with more hair in his ears than on his scalp went flying into a tub of tarantula legs but other than that Hermione's sudden appearance was treated with little fanfare.  
  
"Ah, Ms. Granger, come to get refills? Or did you hear about my shipment of Siren tears that I got yesterday? Very rare you know." Mr. Elphick smiled at her warmly from across the counter; she was one of his regular customers. The shop was dark and crowded as always. Strange looking bottles cluttered shelf upon shelf along all walls. Even the back of the store door was hung with strips of dried Jobberknoll.   
  
"Siren tears you say?" Hermione's worry was momentarily dissuaded. "Can you put four milliliters on hold for me?"  
  
"You don't want it now?"  
  
"I wasn't expecting them. I don't have any vials prepared. You know that Siren tears spoil once they've been separated from the main shipment if they aren't stored in glass vials that have been washed in a mild sulfur bath." Hermione told him with a hint of censure in her tone.  
  
"Y...yes, you're quite right. I'll set that aside then for you? Come back tomorrow?" He looked at her hopefully through small, dirty glasses.   
  
"Of course I'll come back for them tomorrow. But my reason for stopping by today is that I sent my friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley here a little while ago to pick up a few potion ingredients but I fear that I may have left something off of the list. I don't suppose you have the reciept from the sale readily available?" Hermione beamed brightly at him.  
  
Mr. Elphick looked at her closely. He generally did not like to give out information concerning his patrons; one could get quite a nasty reputation that way, but Ms. Granger was one of his best customers. After a few minutes of consideration he rifled through a rusty lock box on his counter and handed Hermione a small sheet of paper.   
  
She read it quickly. "No, no, it seems that they got everything." Hermione handed it back to him with that same wide smile still on her face. "I just don't know where my mind is today."  
  
Her smile vanished from her face the moment that she exited the apothecary. Ashwinder eggs. Dragon's blood. Crushed vampire fangs. Hermione knew of only one potion that used all of those rare and expensive ingredients, the Wolfwood potion.  
  
The Wolfwood potion was a new variation of the Wolfsbane potion. It was considered to be a universal improvement over its predecessor. It not only took a shorter time to brew but it could be taken only moments before the rise of the full moon. It was also the only potion in existence that could halt the transformation altogether. Wolfwood had its negatives though. The ingredients were very hard to come by. The werewolf in question, while not transforming, was left nearly incapacitated. But worst was the toll that brewing the potion took on its creator. Many of the more complex potions required a certain amount of magic from the brewer and the Wolfwood potion was known to take a lot out of whoever dared to create it. Hermione highly doubted that either Harry or Ron were capable of brewing a potion such as this. But they had bought the ingredients for it. And Hermione only knew one werewolf.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Professor Lupin owned a small cottage in a neglected little town in Wales. Hermione had only been there once for a quick visit and a spot of tea. It had been apparent that Lupin did not enjoy entertaining in his derelict home. He far preferred to meet with her in London whenever she had a question dealing with her studies.   
  
Hermione stood before it now with the last rays of the sun settling along her shoulders, stretching her shadow far out before her. She looked quickly at her watch; the moon would be rising in only a few hours. If they were brewing the Wolfwood potion she certainly hoped that they had started already. Time was quickly becoming their enemy.  
  
She walked hurriedly towards the slightly off kilter building. It had two floors and a thatched roof. One window refused to stay closed and it hung open in the breeze, at some point someone had decided against mending the cracked pane of glass in it.   
  
Hermione squeezed her hands together. She was wearing light brown gloves but the cool evening air was already beginning to sink it. Hermione wished that she had bothered with her coat before coming to find them. By now her worry had faded into a resentful annoyance. She knew that they weren't in danger, but they were definitely trying to keep something from her. They were also definitely here.  
  
She walked up to the mildew-encrusted front door and rapped sharply on it. The door opened slowly and she was face to face with a rather shame-faced Ron.   
  
"Uh, hi Hermione." He said apologetically.   
  
  
  
"Don't you 'hi' me, Ronald Weasley, don't you dare." Hermione jabbed one finger into his chest and he backed up quickly. "Do you have an idea how worried I've been? I thought something had happened." She followed after him, poking to enunciate her words. "I thought you two were in trouble." Ron continued to back up guiltily. "I thought maybe you had been kidnapped!" Hermione backed him into the far wall of the shabby living room. "But no! Nothing is wrong, you're fine, you're both fine. Care to tell me what is going on?"  
  
"I...we..." Ron made a grab to catch her hand in order to prevent any more poking.  
  
"We got a letter from Sirius this afternoon. He needed our help." Harry's voice distracted Hermione from her current target.  
  
Harry stood in the door way of the kitchen wearing old jeans and a ratty t-shirt with holes that he wouldn't ever let her fix. He was drying his hands carefully on a towel.   
  
"Well why all the subterfuge? Why hide it from me?" Hermione's voice softened, "I was so worried."  
  
"Harry, where did you put that jar of mugwort?" Another voice, one that Hermione hadn't heard in ages, called from the kitchen.  
  
Sirius stepped into the living room behind Harry. He looked better than when Hermione had seen him last in her Seventh Year. His hair was clean and thicker. The bags from under his eyes were gone. But he still looked tired, still seemed to be under some sort of strain. He stopped dead when he caught sight of her.  
  
"Hermione," her name was a whisper on his lips. Then a bit louder, "you cut your hair."  
  
Hermione scowled at him, a year and a half and the first thing he has to say is a comment on her hair? "Sirius." Her reply was colder than she meant.  
  
That seemed to snap some sense back into him and he turned to Harry, dark eyes flashing angrily, "I told you not to involve her in this."  
  
"We didn't tell her." Harry muttered, not meeting his godfather's eyes or Hermione's. "But she's always been good at figuring these things out."  
  
Hermione glared openly at Sirius. "You didn't want to involve me?" She hissed. How dare he? "I don't suppose anyone is going to tell me what's going on?"  
  
"We're helping Professor Lupin make his potion." Ron said hastily then raised his hands defensively obviously fearing her further wrath.  
  
"Why didn't he have it already? I thought that Snape was still brewing it for him?" Hermione asked, eyes returning to Ron.  
  
"Apparently," Harry said while casting a look at Sirius, "He lost it."  
  
"Lost it." Hermione repeated. "How do you lose a potion like that?"  
  
Sirius took a step towards her; cutting off whatever Harry was going to say. "Remus was helping me out of a jam. We got into a bit of trouble. The bottle was broken."  
  
Hermione looked at the older man silently. She knew that he wasn't about to explain what sort of jam he had been in so she wasn't even going to bother asking. "Where is Professor Lupin now?" All three men glanced at the kitchen and Hermione strode past them into it with an exasperated sigh.   
  
Lupin was sitting at an old table. The kitchen was clean except for the many potion ingredients scattered across all available surfaces. Her old professor looked over his shoulder at her; his hair seemed greyer than she last remembered.  
  
"Hello, Hermione, didn't think you were coming." His voice was tired and raspy.  
  
Hermione walked gingerly to him, avoiding the large pewter cauldron that was taking up several feet of floor space. "I would have been here sooner, Professor, but I wasn't invited."  
  
"Ahh...Sirius." Lupin tried to smile but failed miserably.  
  
"Are you hurt?" She asked cautiously laying a slender hand on his shoulder.   
  
Hermione had noticed as she approached the hunched way he sat as if he was favoring his left side. He was also trembling ever so slightly and an air of ill health flavored the air.   
  
Lupin coughed into a folded handkerchief that he held in his hands, Hermione saw blood speckling his saliva before he could wipe it away. "Ahh, just a little spot of trouble earlier. I'll be fine."  
  
Hermione fought the urge to throw something. "You're suffering from the effects of a Fire Seed trap, aren't you?" She could feel Harry, Ron, and Sirius watching them from the doorway.   
  
Professor Nettles had spent an entire week teaching them the ins and outs of Fire Seed traps. She knew how to dismantle them. She knew how to identify someone suffering from its effects. Hell, Hermione could make one if she really wanted to. That probably had more to Draco than with her professor though.   
  
Professor Lupin looked away from her, his eyes tired. Hermione really wanted to throw something now. Coming into contact with Fire Seeds, a very popular Dark magic booby-trap, wasn't fatal but it was highly painful. The aftereffects of a mere touch of one seed could last days. The skin around the affected area would pucker and swell, forming angry blisters that would eventually taint the flesh both inside and out.   
  
"He can't possibly make this potion." Hermione said finally to no one in particular as Professor Lupin started coughing up blood again.  
  
"If he undergoes the transformation in his current state the damage might be irreversible." Sirius argued. Fire Seeds were usually deadly against animals, particularly wolves.  
  
"I know that." Hermione snapped smartly as she grasped Professor Lupin by the shoulders and gently removed him from the chair. "That's why I'm going to make it." "  
  
Professor Lupin made no effort to stop her, in fact, he smiled greyly at her as she past him off.  
  
  
  
"Ron, you're good with healing charms, see if you can't make him more comfortable." She pushed her old Professor at her friends.  
  
"You are not going to make this potion." Sirius suddenly had a hand on her arm.  
  
She was spun quickly around to face him; Hermione would never understand how he could move so quickly. "There really isn't another choice at the moment. Do you know how to make it?" Hermione replied calmly, she refused to be intimidated by him.  
  
Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times obviously trying to find a proper argument. "I'll take him to Dumbledore."  
  
Hermione placed her hand over Sirius' and tried to pry his fingers from her arm. "There isn't time, you know that. Prepping the ingredients could take half the night. Everything is set up here, it won't take me more than an hour. I'm quite capable of doing this potion."  
  
"I'm not letting you. I know what it does to its maker. It will hurt you." His voice was angry and pleading in equal parts.  
  
"It won't hurt me, it will only make me tired. I'll be fine. But Professor Lupin won't be if you don't let go of my arm." Hermione pulled a bit harder on his fingers and they abruptly released her.  
  
"I don't like this."  
  
"Really?" Was her snide reply, "I hadn't realized."  
  
He frowned at her. "Hermione..."  
  
"Sirius, get out, I have work to do."   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was done. Hermione admired her handiwork thoughtfully. All this effort and magic for a tablespoon's worth of potion. It was laughable really, the amount of power that some potions required.   
  
She stretched and yawned. Hermione wasn't angry anymore. Not really. Not with Harry and Ron at least. Harry always had a difficult time refusing Sirius anything. They both felt guilty about it now, Harry and Ron, she could feel it emanating from both of them openly. But why had Sirius not wanted her help to begin with?  
  
It was common knowledge that neither he nor Professor Lupin was skilled at brewing Potions. Harry was a bit better than Ron but none of them were even in the same category of expertise when compared to Hermione. She had always had a natural gift for Potions, much to the chagrin of Snape. So why not ask for her help? Did he think that she would have refused to give it? Was seeing her such a trial?   
  
Hermione frowned and slowly stood up. She was exhausted. Hermione decided that she was going to sleep for years. They were all talking quietly when she entered the living room.   
  
"It's done." Hermione told them softly as she leaned against the doorframe for support. She had poured the potion into an old chipped mug that she had found in a cupboard. Hermione held the cup out, to them, afraid to walk any farther for fear of stumbling in fatigue and spilling the precious bubbly-grey fluid.   
  
Harry took it from her quickly and passed it to Professor Lupin who appeared to be feeling a bit better. Ron really was a wonder when it came to those healing charms. Lupin smiled a thank you at her before downing it all at once.   
  
Hermione returned his smile and promptly fainted.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was dark when she opened her eyes again. Hermione wasn't sure what had woken her at first. She was curled on her side in a bed that she knew wasn't her own while feather light touches tickled her cheek. Someone was touching her.  
  
Hermione rolled over slightly, eyes adjusting to the dark. Sirius was sitting in a chair next to her bed, his hand poised in mid-air as if afraid to move it.  
  
"Sirius?" Hermione mumbled through a yawn, "what are you doing? Am I still at Professor Lupin's?"  
  
Sirius brought his hand back down carefully and brushed her hair back from her face. "Yes, you're still at Remus'. We thought it would be best to just let you sleep."  
  
Hermione frowned at him, why was he being so nice to her all of a sudden? Why was he caressing her cheek? "What are you doing in here?"   
  
His hand stopped moving, "I'm not here." Sirius replied and once again his fingers continued with their gentle sweep up and down her cheek. "You're dreaming."  
  
Hermione shook her head, fighting back another yawn. "Don't be silly, Sirius," She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. "I am not dreaming."  
  
Sirius leaned towards her. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" His words were breathed gently across her ear.   
  
A very un-Hermione like giggle escaped her and she caught his hand in her own, stilling it's exploration. Hermione yawned again and tightened her fingers around his own. "I really am dreaming then, aren't I?" She drifted back to sleep.   
  
Sirius was gone when she woke in the morning. And Hermione never recalled waking up during the night. 


	19. Sirius' Truth

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
AN: Okay, thanks for all the reviews, they really have been great. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. I've already started on the next two chapters so I will hopefully have those out in a couple of weeks. Thanks again!  
  
_______________________________________________________  
  
This was not where she had ever expected to be. But here she was, curled up on the old sofa that Molly Weasley had insisted upon giving them, in Sirius Black's arms. Her head pillowed against his chest. His arm was draped possessively around her. One of Hermione's hands rested just below her chin, her fingers gently entwined with his own.   
  
She had stopped crying a while ago but Sirius hadn't let her go and Hermione had made no moves to leave him.  
  
His hand, the one not occupied with her own, was running softly up and down along her shoulder. Sirius' chest was still damp from her tears but he didn't seem to mind. It was nice, being like this with him. It was nice, being so comforted. He was as warm as summer soaked sand or a rock in the sun. Hermione could snuggle a bit closer and drift back to sleep if it wasn't for the fact that Sirius was being nice. He was being very, very nice to her. As comfortable as she was, Hermione was finding it a bit unsettling.   
  
"Sirius?" The hand on her back stilled. "Sirius, why are you being so nice to me?"  
  
His hand recommenced its movement. "Shouldn't I be?"  
  
Sirius' softly spoken word reverberated against Hermione's cheek in a most seductive manner. She could almost visualize her knees turning to jelly as her imagination ran away from her with most atypical thoughts. Her bare toes curled under. Hermione wasn't quite able to stop the slight shiver.  
  
"Are you cold?" His breath fluttering her hair.  
  
"N...no, no I'm fine." Hermione refused to be so easily blindsided. She was not some childish sixteen year old who would melt like ice cream in summer just because he was showing a sudden, rather surprising, amount of tenderness to her.   
  
Nonetheless he still shifted her slightly so that Hermione was even closer to him, his arm letting of long enough to pull a blanket up over her. He smoothed the red wool around her then settled them back into their previous positions.  
  
"Sirius," Hermione wasn't sure where to begin. She didn't understand any of this. "I really thought you hated me?"   
  
"Haven't we resolved that issue already?" He exchanged a question for a question.   
  
Hermione tried to sit up but his casually thrown arm tightened gently, holding her securely while still giving the illusion of voluntary participation in the act. She sighed, relaxed against him once again, and rubbed her cheek softly against his well-worn robe. "I know that you don't hate me. But I don't understand and I detest not understanding. You've always belittled my Auroring abilities to Harry and Ron. You've always tried to come between us. You treated me like my very existence offended you somehow. You've avoided me for years and now I can't get rid of you. Make me understand."  
  
Sirius released her hand. She tilted her face up to look at him while he absentmindedly ran his hand through his black hair. There was a fine growth of dark stubble along his jaw, which gave Hermione the most forbidden urge to trace her fingers along it. Sirius let his head fall back against the back the sofa exposing his neck to her. He looked younger than Hermione remembered seeing him in years.   
  
"I've made a right mess of things." He said finally.  
  
"Hmm," Was Hermione's noncommittal reply. "Well, that certainly answers everything, doesn't it?"   
  
He did the most surprising thing then. Sirius chuckled. Low and throaty, Hermione hadn't ever heard a sound more suited to him.  
  
"Smart-ass." He called her.  
  
"What?" Hermione managed to twist out of his grasp in her surprise at being insulted. "Is this really the appropriate time to be calling me names?"  
  
She leaned back to scowl at him. But Hermione wasn't quite able to make herself move too far from his delightful warmth.  
  
Sirius lifted his hand to caress her cheek. Hermione didn't realize that she was leaning into his palm until her lips were suddenly kissing the flesh below his thumb. Sirius' eyes darkened. His hand reached around to the back of her head where it entwined with her hair. He pulled her forcefully back against him, his lips crushing hers in an open mouth kiss.   
  
Hermione moaned weakly against him, not even trying to sort out how she had gone from almost hating to snogging the man in less than an hour. She just didn't care at the moment. There was so little time to sort things out. And Hermione felt like this, with Sirius, had been a long time coming.   
  
Her hand gripped his shoulder as she shifted to straddle him. He groaned, her lower lip in his teeth. His hands were clenching her upper thighs; her old flannel nightgown had ridden up, exposing most of her legs. His fingertips rested just underneath the fabric, teasing her.   
  
Hermione rose up against him, pulling him closer to her, wanting more. It was wanton, desperate, and more forward than Hermione would ever dream of being, but she didn't care. The stress of everything had taken its toll and Hermione would give almost anything to feel the rush that came with sex.   
  
"Sirius," She pleaded against his mouth.  
  
But he wasn't kissing her now. His hands had moved to her shoulders. He was pushing her back. Forcing her to stop. Hermione didn't want to stop. She needed this.  
  
"Sirius." She tried to pull herself back to him but he caught her hands and held her at bay.   
  
"Hermione," He was breathing hard, his eyes were like black jewels. "Hermione, please listen to me. You need to understand"  
  
He was pushing her away. Shutting her out. It would be just as it always was.   
  
"Hermione, do you know why I kissed you?"   
  
She shook her head slowly. She was suddenly very aware of her pushed up nightgown and her placement in his lap. A blush was already creeping across her face at her behavior.  
  
He took a deep, steadying breath. "Hermione," His voice was that whisper-soft sound that made Hermione's insides quiver. "Hermione, I kissed you because I'm in love with you."  
  
His comment was so far outside of the realm of possibility that Hermione almost laughed. But there was something in his tone, something in his grip on her hands that leant credibility to his words.   
  
She pulled carefully back from him; his hands letting hers slip free. "What? Don't say such things, Sirius. You can't...can't possibly."  
  
He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "It started in your sixth year. You were so young and innocent. I hadn't expected it at all. You were Harry's friend. But you were also beautiful and brave and so much younger than myself. You trusted me, all those times that you came to see me in my rooms. All those times that you came with that innocent goodwill of yours, unable to let me be lonely. And all I wanted to do was...well, it was horribly inappropriate given your age and my own." His hands tightened on her hips where he had let them drop when she had pulled free from him.   
  
Hermione blinked wide brown eyes at him, she wasn't hearing this, it simply wasn't possible. "Sirius, you shouldn't, you shouldn't say such things." She repeated trying to make him talk sensibly.  
  
"Remus figured it out." Sirius almost smiled. "I should have known that he would. He always had an eye for undertones. He confronted me and I realized that I had to leave. I had to get away from you. I couldn't risk what would happen if my self-control slipped." His words were quick as if he were afraid of losing his nerve.  
  
Hermione slid off his lap in a daze. "You left because of me?"  
  
"You were so good, so pure, I couldn't risk tainting you." He said bitterly any trace of happiness gone from his face now. "I never meant for you to know. I thought that if I could get away from you these feelings would go away. I thought that I was suffering the pangs of a ridiculous infatuation."   
  
"An infatuation?" Hermione echoed, yes, she knew a little bit about infatuations.  
  
Sirius leaned forward, his hands running wildly through his black hair. "But they didn't go away. I always thought about you. I wondered if you were well, if you were happy, if you had fallen in love. I dreamed about you at night. I dreamed that we were together, in every sense of the word, and that we were happy."  
  
Hermione blushed at these words, as impossible as they were.   
  
"But then, I also dreamed that people were hurting you. That Voldemort had gotten to you and Harry and Ron. It about drove me insane." He sat back up and looked at her, "When you found me in that place Peter intended to be my tomb, I thought you were a dream. I thought that I was hallucinating. I thought that I was so close to death that my mind was giving me one small window of happiness. So I took it." He looked away from her again, frowning. "I was so angry with myself, so disgusted, when I realized that it was real."   
  
"I thought you meant me." Hermione whispered as that scene in the hospital wing so long ago replayed in her mind.   
  
He looked at her in surprise. "You? How could I ever think that you were disgusting? You were perfect and I hurt you." Sirius reached out to her as if wanting to prove how no disgusting her found her.  
  
But Hermione slid a bit further back on the sofa from him stopping just out of reach. It was all so unreal. Sirius Black could not be sitting there on the sofa with her confessing to years of love and devotion. It just couldn't be possible. "Sirius," she tried again, "please, think about what you're saying."  
  
He pulled from her, a distinct frown marring his face as she argued with him. "The dreams were worse when you decided to become an Auror. I know that I hurt you then but I just wanted you to be safe. I wanted you to be a librarian or something somewhere far away from all the horror of Voldemort."   
  
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breathe as she tried to organize her thoughts, how had she managed to miss all of this?  
  
"When you..." He took another deep breath, "when you were hurt. When I thought that I had lost you I went a little crazy."  
  
  
  
Hermione looked up at him, she remembered him being in St. Mungo's then, after the attack, when they thought she was going to die. But he had never once mentioned it to her.   
  
"I had never killed before." His voice was dangerously low. Sirius had gone very still now, his focused on the well-worn rug.   
  
"What?" She chocked out.  
  
"The first night, when they brought you in, I was there. But I couldn't wait to see if you would wake up with the others. It was suffocating there. So I left. I needed a drink and I didn't care who saw me."   
  
Hermione was watching him closely now, hanging on his every word. She had subconsciously moved to the far end of the sofa but Sirius didn't seem to notice.  
  
"I was in a muggle part of London. I must have drunk a whole bottle of whiskey before I came across them." His eyes were far away in a memory. "They were in an alley. They were drunk. They were torturing some vagrant muggle. Laughing while they hurt him. They were talking about their earlier success. All the people that they had killed." Sirius closed his eyes, "you know, a part of me couldn't believe my luck, I had found those that had hurt you without even trying."  
  
"Who?" Hermione whispered. They had never known who was responsible for the attack. "Who was it?"  
  
Sirius looked at her now, his expression was bore the marks of forced neutrality, "Dolohov and Jugson. They were so proud of themselves. For all I knew, you were laying dead in St. Mungo's, and it was their fault." He looked away from her again. "It's funny, because I actually had a wand with me; I had stolen Remus' when he wasn't paying attention earlier that evening. But I didn't think to use it. I just went at them, like an animal, they didn't even see me coming. I killed Dolohov almost at once. I smashed his head into the brick wall lining the alleyway. Have you ever seen what a broken skull looks like?"   
  
Hermione felt nauseous. She stood up carefully and took a step away from him.   
  
"I strangled Jugson. You would think that Death Eaters would be more prepared for a fight like that. But they're more fearsome in packs I suppose. The old muggle took off somewhere calling for the police. I transfigured their bodies into bits of trash and changed into a dog." He ran both hands through his hair, messing the dark locks even further. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what I did after that. I couldn't bring myself to return to the hospital until the next evening. What if...what if you had died? Died while I was out killing."   
  
Hermione felt an unbidden tear steal down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand before wrapping both arms about herself.  
  
Sirius watched her a mixture of helpless remorse on his face, but he wasn't done with his confession. "Remus found me somehow, he's always been good at that, and he brought me back to the hospital to help keep watch over you. I didn't deserve to be there near you. Not after what I had done."   
  
"I remember you being there." Hermione whispered softly her voice unsteady. "I was glad that you were there."   
  
Sirius stood suddenly. He took a step towards her but Hermione retreated from him. He bowed his head in defeat.   
  
"Still, I don't deserve to be near you." He murmured.   
  
Hermione felt her lower lip began to tremble more pronouncedly, her emotions would betray her completely if she didn't do something to distract herself. "I...I'm going to make breakfast."  
  
His dark eyes met hers in surprise. "After all this, you're going to make breakfast?"   
  
She didn't miss the hurt that he tried to hide. "I...I..." She needed time to think. She needed time to understand. She needed time to understand her own tumultuous feelings. "I'm hungry." Hermione replied finally with the safest possible answer. She brushed loose hair back behind her ear in what she hoped was a casual fashion.  
  
Sirius nodded silently.  
  
Hermione stepped past him towards the kitchen. But before she could go even a few steps strong arms were around her from behind. Sirius looped an arm around her waist while the other settled higher up just underneath her collarbone. He held her tightly, his cheek pressed against her hair, his mouth tantalizingly close to her ear.  
  
"I do love you." He whispered, "No matter what you think of me, I'll always love you."   
  
Hermione could feel her resolve, to distance herself from this crazy situation and give herself time to think, weaken as he held her. His breath puffed gently against her ear sending shivers down her spine. Only a moment or two more and she would turn in his arms and let him show her how much he loved her.  
  
But Sirius let go of her.   
  
She was cold without him.   
  
"You're leaving?" Hermione asked as he turned to collect his cloak from the rack.   
  
He nodded, not looking at her, his shoulders slightly hunched.  
  
Hermione took a step towards him, her hand outstretched, but she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him. "You're coming back though, right?"  
  
Sirius looked at her then, his eyes unnaturally bright. "You can't keep me away." 


	20. The Way the World Works

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Author Notes: Okay, I wanted to take a minute to explain my version of Hermione. How is she able to be so completely oblivious to Sirius' feelings? Yes, I know that the poor guy needs to smack her up side the head to get her to realize how he feels for her.  
  
Well, you see, way back a long time ago I created this Dungeons & Dragons character (yes, I am a freaky gamer) named Cressida. She was a wizard that I based on Hermione. She was bookish, bossy, and not too keen on adventuring at first. As I played Cress I began to notice a trend with her, she had absolutely no skills at sensing motives. The poor thing was ridiculously smart but a bit thick when it came to situations of a more personal matter. This conversation actually took place in a game I was playing...  
  
Lecherous Old Wizard: Hey little girl, wanna see my rod of power? hehehe  
  
(aleximoon rolls her dice and gets a 1!) - 1 is a failure for those of you not familiar with the room.  
  
Cressida: gasp! Y...you have a rod of power? Can I...Can I touch?"  
  
Now you might be wondering what that has to do with Hermione. Well, as I continued to play Cress, a character based on Hermione, my view of Hermione started to change as my D&D character's personality started to get stronger. So Hermione ended up accidentally assimilating Cress' complete lack of common sense when dealing with men. Just be thankful that Hermione didn't also acquire Cress' bad attitude!   
  
_________________________________________________________  
  
It's funny really, the way the world works. Hermione had spent almost nine years of her life living rather dangerously. Life threatening occurrences were par for the course when one was best friends with Harry Potter. Along with Ron, the three of them had always running off into the maw of almost certain death and had thus far come back relatively unscathed. Sure, she had been petrified in her second year, and the memory of that polyjuice catastrophe was never far from her mind. But all in all, Hermione had been extremely fortunate. This type of luck leads one, unsurprisingly, to a false sense of security. Needless to say, it came as quite a shock when she nearly died.  
  
There was pain. Sharp and burning, it was the first thing that Hermione knew when she woke up. The ache muddled her thoughts. She was on fire. A distant part of her mind, the most coherent, tried unsuccessfully to remember why she hurt. It hurt to swallow. It hurt to breathe. Pain overrode every sense that she had. Her ears rang shrilly. Her nose burned with every thready intake of breath. Her skin felt tight and thin as if she had spent too much time in the sun. Her mouth was hot, dry, and swollen. Hermione tried to swallow and moaned.  
  
"Hermione?" A panicked voice called from far away. "Hermione, can you hear me?"  
  
Hermione struggled to open her eyes the pleading in the distant voice urging her on. She finally managed to open eyes that were so bloodshot it was hard to determine where exactly her irises began.   
  
So bright. The world was so bright. Glittering white walls reflected sunlight back upon her in dizzying waves. Hermione wanted to close her eyes again but before she could a familiar set of eyes met hers.  
  
"M...M..." Hermione tried to speak through cracked lips.  
  
"You're awake." Her mother whispered, her glistening eyes filling up with tears. "She's awake. Oh thank God, she's awake."  
  
Hermione wanted to ask what was going on. She wanted to know why she hurt. She wanted to know why her mother looked like she had been crying for hours. But all that passed from her parched lips was a gurgle followed by a racking cough that forced blood up her throat, stinging the insides of her mouth with its metallic tang.  
  
A hand was on her back, causing her to whimper in pain as it pressed against the painfully sensitive skin there. But the hand didn't move. Instead it pushed her forward, forcing her to sit up. Hermione would have struggled against the hand if she had the strength. A glass was pushed against her aching lips. Hermione greedily accepted it, hoping to cool the inside of her throat, which felt as dry as if she had gone her whole life without water.  
  
But there wasn't water in the glass. Instead a strong smelling potion scalded her. Hermione could hear screaming so shrill that it hurt her ears. Her screaming. Somewhere beyond the periphery of what her eyes could focus on Hermione could hear her mother sobbing.  
  
"Please, Ms. Granger, you have to drink." They were such kind words from the one who was causing her pain.  
  
Her eyes searched desperately for her attacker, for the speaker, and then she could see Headmaster Dumbledore. He held the glass in one hand while the other kept her upright.  
  
"I know that it hurts, but you must drink." He said bringing the glass back to her lips.  
  
She was too tired to fight him. The fiery liquid poured, unhindered, down her throat in agonizing swallows. Tears leaked down her cheeks in hot rivulets, the salt cracking the already dehydrated skin.  
  
Hermione drank it all, despite the pain. As Dumbledore lowered her back down, Hermione's eyes closed. Tight hands gripped her shoulders. The pain was initially fierce but faded as the she began to lose consciousness.  
  
"Don't close your eyes, Hermione, please." Her mother's voice was screaming desperately. "Hermione, darling, please..."  
  
When she woke again, the room was dark, but she wasn't alone. Shadowy figures that she couldn't quite see hovered near the foot of the bed, talking in whispered voices that made her head pound.   
  
"Ha..." She managed to force out.  
  
The figures both jumped in surprise before rushing to her side.  
  
"Hermione, can you hear me?" A hand took hers carefully.  
  
The touch hurt but it was comforting and gentle.   
  
"R...Ron?" She whispered, her throat aching.  
  
"Quick, Harry, before she goes out again." Ron said loudly.  
  
Her vision trembled at the decibel of his voice. Hermione blinked her eyes slowly trying to force them to be steady.  
  
Hands were slipping underneath her. Hoisting her up in what was probably a most careful manner.  
  
"N...no, hurts." Hermione whimpered at the touches.  
  
Again, that cold glass was against her lips. Hermione found the strength this time to turn her head away but Ron was grasping her chin, forcing her to open her mouth.  
  
"Please," Harry pleaded near her right ear. "Please drink it."  
  
Once again, Hermione did as she was told.  
  
She had only just closed her eyes for a moment but Ron and Harry were gone when she opened them again. Soft, dawn light was coloring the room grey. Someone was crying. Her mother was crying again.  
  
"Please, dearest, don't cry." Her father's voice was soothing. "Dumbledore says...he says that she can hear us."  
  
"Hear?" Her mother's voice was shrill. "How can she hear anything, she's hardly alive!"  
  
Despite the pain, Hermione felt slightly disgruntled at this. Hermione tried to tell them that despite all of her other ailments, the burning skin, the painful eyesight, the bloody lips, and dried throat, her ears seemed to be working all right. But all she managed to say was, "Hear."  
  
Her mother gasped.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes as her parents both scrambled to their feet in a hustle of clothes and colors. The movement swam around her, making Hermione feel nauseous.   
  
Her mother's hand took hers. "Darling, Hermione, what are you trying to say?"  
  
"Hear," Hermione repeated. "Can hear."  
  
"She can hear us." Her mother was quickly dissolving into tears again.   
  
Hermione wished she would stop doing that; it made her heart hurt, and enough of Hermione was hurting already.  
  
Her father's voice distracted her, "Hermione, Dumbledore says that you must drink this, he says that it will help."  
  
Hermione whimpered at the thought.  
  
"He says, he says that it will help." He repeated his hands were pulling her forward. "Be a good girl for Dad, drink it."  
  
Hermione didn't have the heart or the strength to fight them and she was becoming used the pain.  
  
It was dark again. Hermione wished that time would stop sneaking past her like this. She could have sworn that only a few minutes ago she had been with her parents in the light.   
  
Someone was holding her hand. Someone was smoothing back her hair. It took Hermione's weak eyes a few moments to realize who it was.  
  
"Sirius?" She was able to say fully.   
  
"Hermione?" Sirius replied, leaning down to look at her as if not believing his own ears. He breathed a sigh of relief and gently kissed her forehead. "I was so worried."  
  
Hermione was still having a great deal of trouble muddling through her thoughts but one thing was certain, if Sirius was worried for her then the situation must be far worse than she imagined. "Sirius," Hermione struggled to speak through her dry mouth, "Am I dying?"  
  
His dark eyes went wide at the question and his hand tightened harshly around hers.  
  
"No, Hermione, not if you drink this." Another voice replied.  
  
Professor Lupin stood to her other side, the hated glass in his hand. Sirius pulled her up. His arm around her back, he cradled her against him while Lupin administered the vile drink. She stayed awake far longer with them than she had with anyone else. Lupin smiled and talked to her like nothing in the world was amiss. While Sirius continued to hold her hand and brush his fingers against her scalp in soothing touches.   
  
Hermione tried so hard not to fall asleep. She tried so hard not to lose her fragile grasp on time. But she was so very tired, and she hurt so very much.   
  
"Sirius," She murmured to him, wanting him to help her, wanting him to keep her awake.  
  
His lips were on her forehead again, his voice soft in her ear, "Stay with me, Hermione."  
  
But she was already gone.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Do you remember anything?" The Auror asked her softly.  
  
"You've already asked her that." Ron snapped short-temperedly.   
  
"The more times we go over it the more likely it is that Ms. Granger will remember something of value." The Auror, Hermione couldn't remember his name, replied coldly; his soft tone slipping as he addressed Ron.  
  
"It... it's all right, Ron." Hermione soothed in a voice that was a mere shadow of what it had been a week ago. "H...helps to go over..." Even though her head was beginning to pound worrisomely.  
  
Today was the first day that she was able to sit up on her own. It was the first that in which she was able to take the potion on her own. And it was the first day in which the waiting Aurors were allowed anywhere near her.  
  
"I..." Hermione started coughing suddenly, her chest aching with the effort. Her mother moved to her side and helped her drink some water. At least she had stopped coughing up blood. "...got off the train. Th... there was," Hermione paused as she felt suddenly dizzy, "a strange smell in the air and then...and then..." Hermione's voice cracked painfully, "I was here."  
  
"That wasn't your usual stop, was it? So the attack couldn't have been aimed at Mr. Potter, who usually meets you in the Underground."   
  
Hermione shook her head slowly, "Not the usual stop. I had wanted," Her back spasmed with pain and Hermione clenched her teeth, waiting for the cramp to pass. "...Wanted to get a newspaper." She whispered hoarsely when the worst of the pain had passed.  
  
The Auror looked her questioningly, "You couldn't have waited three extra stops?"   
  
Hermione tried to smile but managed to only force one side of her mouth up. Her muscles were still overwrought. Apparently, she had done quite a lot of screaming that she couldn't remember. "I was impatient."  
  
"You do realize that if you hadn't..." He began but was cut off by Ron.  
  
"No, she hasn't yet realized." He growled.  
  
Hermione appreciated his defensive sarcasm. She didn't need any more people telling her that if she hadn't stopped, she wouldn't be in St. Mungo's suffering from a severe poisoning.  
  
The Auror switched topics immediately. "You mentioned a smell, can you tell me anything about it?"  
  
Hermione rested back against her pillows, remembering that morning that should have had been like any other morning. "It... It was sweet. Sickeningly so. I could smell asphodel and poppies. Then people started..." Hermione closed her eyes at the painful memory, "collapsing."   
  
"Did you see anyone?" He asked.  
  
Hermione shook her head.   
  
"Was it a random Death Eater attack?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yes, the Dark Mark was sent off only moments before the Aurors arrived. You're being there seems to be just bad luck, Ms. Granger." The Auror stood, "I'll let you rest now, maybe we can talk again in a few days."  
  
Hermione nodded sleepily.   
  
The Auror shook hands with her father and told her mother something about how someone would be punished but Hermione didn't care. She was still lost in the memory. There had been so many people there. "How many people?"   
  
"What?" Ron turned to look at her.  
  
"How many people died?"   
  
The Auror studied the notes in his hands. "We're not sure yet, the number keeps rising, at least fifty."   
  
Hermione nodded, rolling the number over in her head as she settled down to sleep. At least fifty. But the number was still rising. The Death Eaters had killed at least fifty people for no reason. It was the last thing on her mind as she stumbled once again into sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was on the ninth day that Draco came. Hermione wasn't sure how long he had been there. He wasn't there when she had gone to sleep but he was when she woke up again. Hermione couldn't say how long he stayed with her either, her sense of time still wasn't what it was, seconds would slow to hours while whole days were gone through her fingers in the blink of her eye.  
  
"Potter says you're getting better." It was the first thing that he said.  
  
He stood with his back to her. His dark colored robes blending in the shadowed midnight of her room. Hermione wouldn't have even seen him if it wasn't for that too-bright blonde hair of his.  
  
"Draco," Like always, it took a great deal of concentration not to slur her words. "I was wondering if you w... would be coming."   
  
He looked at her, almost coldly, over his shoulder. "Do you think this was the first time that I came?"  
  
Hermione frowned slightly, her head was hurting again, "I... I don't remember." Her throat hurt, the taste of that vile potion still lingered there. "I am sorry, Draco."  
  
He turned then, angrily, "You have nothing to be sorry for!"   
  
His yell made her head hurt. But he was obviously in more pain. Draco's hands were closed into tight, white fists. As she watched blood began to trickle between his closed fingers and dripped onto the institutional-blue tiled floors. He was trembling with barely contained rage. Not at her, she knew that, but the intensity still frightened her. Hermione could think of only a few other times when she had seen him so discomposed.   
  
"I didn't know."  
  
"I know that." Hermione replied quickly.  
  
"I never would have let them..."  
  
"I...I know that, Draco." Not for the last time Hermione wanted to comfort him.  
  
He bowed his head; the usual finely groomed hair was loose and messy. He wouldn't look at her.  
  
"I would have stopped them, I wouldn't have let them." His voice was rising.  
  
"I know th...that." She meant to be soothing but her voice cracked painfully and Draco flinched.  
  
"I would have protected you!" His words were a shout.  
  
Hermione cringed.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A voice hissed from the door.  
  
Harry stood just inside the room, Ron a step behind him.  
  
"We told you not to upset her." Harry's voice was cold. Ron clenched his hands into fists obviously ready for a fight.  
  
"Shouldn't have let the bastard in." Ron growled, "For all we know..."  
  
Draco took a threatening step towards Ron his hands twitching as he fought the urge to draw his wand. "For all you know what?"  
  
Hermione murmured unhappily from the bed but they didn't hear her.  
  
"Ron," Harry warned his friend.  
  
But the redhead stepped past Harry. His face was livid as he fought to keep his voice low. "No, Harry, how do we know that... I mean, for all we know Malfoy here was in the middle of it. The Aurors have determined that the fumes of some unknown potion caused the deaths. We all know how good Malfoy is at potions."  
  
"P...please don't." Hermione struggled against her blankets, trying to free herself from their constrictive bindings.  
  
Harry stood back from Ron and Draco who were now facing off. Ron's face was bright red, his hands still clenched into fists while his body was visibly oscillating in anger. Draco was his polar opposite. He was very pale and still. He had finally forced his hands to uncurl, they lay quiet at his sides, the only movement was a slight twitch to his fingers that desperately wanted his wand.  
  
"You think I had something to do with this?" Draco gestured in Hermione's direction.  
  
"Not directly." Harry replied.  
  
"You think that I would slaughter all those people?"  
  
Ron laughed harshly without amusement, "You're a Slytherin. You're a Death Eater."  
  
Hermione was finally able to free her screaming limbs from the blankets. She grasped the edge of the small nightstand next to her. They could fight if they wanted, but she was not going to stay and watch.  
  
Draco made no comment at Ron's words only looked away from him angrily. "You don't know anything." He said finally.  
  
Ron snorted, "Oh yeah, we know that you've got some weird thing for Hermione going on, but besides that, what's to stop you from becoming just like your fath..."  
  
Ron stopped short as Draco pulled his wand.   
  
"Don't you ever," Draco's entire body was shaking now, except for his wand hand, which was still and steady. "Compare me to that man!"  
  
Hermione pulled herself out of the bed.  
  
There was a surprised cry from Harry and the other two as her feet hit the floor and she immediately crumpled to the ground with a pained whimper. They were at her side in a second.  
  
  
  
"What are you doing?" Ron and Harry asked in unison as they crouched in front of her.  
  
Draco stood behind them wearing a guilty expression.  
  
Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes as she shuddered against the storm of pain that was coming from every nerve in her body. "Not staying." She managed finally through clenched teeth.  
  
"Huh?" Ron questioned.  
  
"Didn't you hear her, Weasley? She's not staying if we're fighting." Draco gave Ron his best scowl.  
  
Hermione would have smiled had she not been crying. Draco was always good at hearing unspoken words.  
  
Ron stood sheepishly to one side as Harry helped Hermione back into bed. "I hadn't meant..." He began apologetically towards Draco.  
  
"They still don't know what potion was used, do they?" Draco asked after a moment of silence.  
  
Harry and Ron shook their heads.  
  
"Well," Hermione whispered softly as her tears stopped, "someone had bet... better figure it out."  
  
Ron looked away from her while Harry coughed uncomfortably.  
  
Draco watched them both closely. "You're not getting better, are you?"   
  
"Of course she is," Harry snapped.  
  
Ron nodded vigorously, his red hair going every which way. "She's going to be fine."   
  
"No, I'm not." Hermione spoke the truth simply. There was no need to dress it up, the potion that Dumbledore brought her helped, but it wasn't an antidote. "The...the poison is burning me up."   
  
Ron slowly sank into a chair next to her bed and bowed his head silently. Harry started cleaning his glasses; Hermione realized that he was doing that a lot lately.  
  
"Dumbledore and Snape are looking for an antidote. They'll find one." Harry said finally as he put his glasses back on.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, she was tired again, all she seemed to do now was sleep.   
  
"They won't find it." Draco said firmly.  
  
Ron glared up at him, "Don't talk like that."  
  
"It's the truth. It's obviously a potion dripping with dark magic. Your bleeding-heart Headmaster has never gotten that stuff. It won't be in any of Professor Snape's books either. Voldemort wouldn't have chosen a potion that he knows, doesn't really trust him anymore." Draco began pacing as he talked.  
  
"How do you know that?" Harry asked.  
  
"Voldemort would have had Snape brew the potion if he did."  
  
Ron got to his feet, angry again, "So we should just give up then? Is that what you're saying?"  
  
"Oh don't be daft." Draco replied coldly. "We'll find it ourselves."  
  
Harry folded his arms over his chest, "What do you mean 'we'?"   
  
"We, as in you, Weasley, and I will go break into Lucius' library." Draco spoke with a pointed slowness as if Harry and Ron were little children that needed extra help understanding. "If we don't find it there, we'll go to the vault at Gringotts. If it's not there then we'll think of something else."  
  
Hermione was frowning at him, "Dangerous." She muttered.  
  
"Indeed." Draco agreed. "But I'm not about to let you die. And besides, danger is my middle name."  
  
"I th...thought it was 'trouble'?" Hermione returned.  
  
"Good catch," Draco commented, "I had it changed."  
  
"What the hell are they going on about?" Ron asked Harry.  
  
Harry ignored Ron, "So when do we leave?"  
  
Draco looked at Harry appraisingly. "We leave now."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
They never did tell her what happened. All she knew, which was only a bit more than most people knew, was that Harry and Ron disappeared for three whole days after they left the hospital with Draco. When they returned, they bore signs of a fierce fight. Harry had a noticeable limp for a week while Ron now had a long, jagged scar that crossed from his right shoulder across his chest to end a few inches above his left hipbone. He could have magicked it away but Hermione knew that he was very proud of his battle scar.   
  
But what they returned with, more importantly than any of their injuries, was a potions book stained with blood and one dose of the antidote needed to cure her. Their friends had been stunned; everyone with even the slightest magical ability had been looking for a cure night and day since the attack. But when questioned about how they had managed to find it, Harry and Ron would only shrug. When Hermione asked what happened they had simply told her that she would really rather not know. She accepted that without any more questions. And Hermione got better.  
  
Draco was back in the hospital a night after Harry and Ron returned. They left him alone with her. Hermione didn't fail to notice that they were more at ease around each other. Draco was paler than normal, leading her to believe that he had been the recipient of a fairly nasty curse, but again, they wouldn't tell her anything.  
  
"Apparently, Snape has been in a foul mood over the whole thing." Draco told her nonchalantly while picking through a tin of fudge that Mrs. Weasley had brought her when she had finally started to eat solid food again. "He's furious with Potter and Weasley for finding the antidote. But as was expected, Dumbledore is brushing it all under the rug, can't have anyone asking questions about why the Golden Boy of Hogwarts had a very nasty dark magic book in his possession."  
  
He held out a piece of fudge to Hermione. She shook her head and he popped it into his own mouth. Just because she was capable of keeping food down didn't mean that she really wanted to eat anything.   
  
"You know, I still have a hard time believing that he's a spy too." Draco said after chewing thoughtfully for a while.  
  
Hermione watched him sleepily. It was very late, or very early, depending on how you looked at it. "Well," she said finally, "I'm not lying."  
  
"I know that, he just so seems the type though."  
  
"He was once." Hermione's voice was stronger now than it had been the last time he came to visit. The antidote that they had found was working wonders, she could feel herself getting stronger every day.  
  
This wasn't the first time that they had had this conversation. Hermione had told him about Snape the year before while meeting him for coffee one day. She had felt that he deserved to know; maybe things would be safer for the both of them if they knew that there was someone that the other could trust. But as far as she knew, Draco had never told Snape anything.  
  
"Here," Draco said suddenly as he set the fudge aside, "this is for you."  
  
He handed her a box. It was slender and ancient, covered in long-ago faded leather. The box was heavy in her hands.  
  
She turned it slowly over in her hands. "What is it?"  
  
Draco slouched casually back in the chair next to her bed, his elbows propped on the armrests, his fingers steepled together in front of him. "Open it."  
  
It wasn't that he had never given her gifts before. On every birthday and major holiday he had sent her some unmarked package via owl post. He always gave expensive things, usually out-of-print books or rare potion ingredients; Draco always said that money was no object. But the way he had held that dull burgundy box in his hands had led her to believe that money just might have been an object in this case.   
  
Hermione was afraid to open it.  
  
"Come off it, Granger, just open the damn box already. I can't spend all night here, you know, I'm not supposed to be here." Draco cut into her thoughts having correctly read her expression.  
  
The light was dull in her room. Only a shaded candle gave any light. It was a new moon that night and the sky was dark. But Hermione had no trouble seeing the item inside the box once she opened it. It almost seemed to give off it's own bit of light. The object was a bracelet. It was a delicate braid of silver and green. She gingerly touched it with the tip of one finger and wasn't the least bit surprised when it tingled with magic.   
  
"It's been in my family for generations." Draco began talking. "Supposedly it was a gift to my great grandmother's great grandmother. I came across it when Potter, Weasley, and I were in one of the Malfoy vaults trying to find you a cure. I thought you might like it."  
  
It was very pretty, the shiny silver caught the candle light and twinkled at Hermione while the strange green metal seemed to absorb the light for it was polished to a high shine but unlike the silver, no reflection of light came from the green.   
  
"What does it do?"   
  
"Do?" Draco asked his eyes leaving hers to study the bauble. "It doesn't do anything."  
  
Hermione frowned at him she wasn't an idiot. "You're lying."  
  
Draco gave a mock gasp, "You wound me."  
  
"Draco..." Hermione sat up slightly in the bed so that she could properly scowl at him, "You're normally much better at lying."  
  
He stood and took the bracelet from its box. "Let's call it a good luck charm, all right? I promise that it isn't evil. It wasn't made with the blood of unicorns, or babies, or fluffy bunnies. I'll just feel better knowing that you have it."   
  
Before she realized what he was doing he had clasped it around her wrist. It was surprisingly light. Hermione turned her arm cautiously studying it.  
  
"I don't know, Draco."   
  
"You won't even know that it's there, I promise."   
  
Hermione frowned at him again, she wasn't sure that she liked the sound of that.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
A month after the attack, Hermione was allowed to go home, much to the tearful pleasure of her mother. She still had to take the antidote once a day for at least another week, but she no longer needed to be magically monitored around the clock.   
  
It was strange being home again. Never before had her bedroom felt any less like her bedroom as it did now that she had returned to it. Nothing had changed but her. Hermione felt like she had aged more in the past month and half than she had in all her time in Hogwarts. She felt tired. She felt old.  
  
Harry and Ron seemed to have aged too. Or maybe it wasn't that they had grown older, maybe that had just refocused on what was important. Hermione had had a lot of time to think in St. Mungo's and she realized that somehow Voldemort had become more of a distant problem to them, rather than the driving cause of their mutual lives. They had hardly talked about him this year. Hermione had hardly thought of him. But now, it was all they talked about, all that they thought about. For the attack proved to remind them of what was important. Lord Voldemort was still out there, still gathering power, still killing. It was high time that they do something about it.  
  
Hermione lay in her bed, covers pulled up to her chin, a glass of water in one hand. It was hard to be proactive about Voldemort when one was still bed-ridden. Hermione glanced over to her clock on the wall; Harry would be coming by in an hour with the homework and notes from their classes. Hermione had been furious when she found out that they wouldn't let her come back until she could walk in on her own. It wasn't like she almost died, well actually, it was rather like that. But she still thought that it was unfair.   
  
There was a light knock on her door.  
  
Hermione sighed deeply her mother was hovering again.   
  
"Hermione?" Her mother peaked around the door at her. "How're you feeling?"  
  
"Fine," Hermione replied truthfully.  
  
Her mother studied the stack of books next to her daughter's bed with an obviously worried expression in her matching brown eyes. "You know Darling, no one expects you to rush back to school."   
  
Hermione took a sip of water; this was not the first time that they had had this conversation.  
  
Her mother straightened an imaginary wrinkle in Hermione's quilt. "You're father and I have been talking and you know, it's not like you have to go back to that school at all. You can find something else to do. Something safer."  
  
Hermione ignored her mother.  
  
The older woman continued on non-perturbed. "I was talking to Molly Weasley, and she told me about how they always thought you would become a teacher at Hogwarts. You could still do that. I think that you would be very suited..."  
  
"No, Mom." Hermione interrupted.  
  
"But it's something to consider." Her mother replied quickly.  
  
"No, it's not, I don't want to do something different." Hermione's voice was fierce, determined.   
  
"But if it's so dangerous," Her mother was pale. "Harry' god father sent me a letter and he says..."  
  
"He did what?"  
  
Her mother spoke quickly, obviously sensing danger, "I'm sure that he is just worried about you. We're all worried for you."  
  
Hermione traced the embroidered trim of her pillowcase with one finger, "I know that. But you don't need to be worried about me."  
  
Her mother turned from her and began straightening the already orderly books on Hermione's bookshelf. It was an obvious sign of her distress; Hermione knew that her mother only turned her back on her daughter during a conversation when she was trying to control warring emotions.  
  
"I've spent the last month and a half," her mother's voice trembled, "crying myself to sleep every night because my only child was almost murdered. I think I have every right to be upset." She began rearranging Hermione's glass figurines; her father had bought her a tiny hand blown pig every year for her birthday.  
  
"Mom," Hermione didn't know how to comfort the older woman.   
  
"I think that it's perfectly understandable that I'm upset, that I want you to stop, that I want you to be safe." With her last words she turned quickly to look at her daughter. A nervous flutter of her hands sent a tiny pink glass piglet tumbling to the floor where is shattered.  
  
They both stared at the broken pieces for a long time.  
  
Finally, Hermione pushed back her blankets and carefully swung her feet over the edge of the bed. She took her wand out from under her pillow. Hermione pointed it at the broken glass and mended her pig.  
  
It was the first spell that she cast since the attack.  
  
"I am not quitting school." Hermione told her mother firmly as she carefully placed one foot then the other on the floor. "I am keeping up with my class work and I plan on being back in class in no more than two weeks."   
  
Her mother opened her mouth to interrupt but Hermione ignored her.   
  
"I will catch up on anything that I have missed." Her voice never wavered or changed pitch. "Ron, Harry, and I will graduate in early June. Then we will go to work for the Ministry and we will stop the people who did this to me from doing it to anyone else."  
  
Her mother snapped suddenly, "Well I won't stand for it!" Hysterical tears were shining in her eyes.  
  
Hermione sighed and bowed her, "I am sorry, but it is not up to you." She had never seen her mother like this.  
  
"As long as you live in this house..." The rest of the threat died as the enormity of it overcame her mother.  
  
Hermione gingerly stood, carefully testing her weight on each foot. She never would have expected those words from her mother. Never had either one of her parents spoken to her such. Her parents had raised her to make her own decisions, to pick her own place in life, to never give up on a goal.   
  
"Well," Hermione spoke slowly as she stood tall, "well, then I will have to live somewhere else, won't I?"   
  
Three weeks later Hermione, Harry, and Ron moved into their flat. 


	21. More Trouble Came

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Author Notes: There will be more chapters eventually. I won't go so far as to estimate a time period since I am apparently not sticking to any sort of schedule with this fic. Thanks so much for the all the reviews; they've all been so wonderful.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
The day proved to be full of revelations.   
  
Long after Sirius' departure Hermione sat at the kitchen table. Her back rested against one of the mismatched chairs, her hands were folded loosely in her lap, her eyes gazed at nothing in particular as she thought about what he had said. And oh, had he ever had a lot to say. Hermione never would have guessed, she never would have even realized, that he felt such things for her. How had she missed it? For years it had seemed like everything that he had done, everything that he had said, was done for the sole purpose of hurting her. But if what he said was true, and she could honestly see no reason why he would lie, then it started to make an odd sort of sense. He hadn't been trying to hurt he had been trying to push her away.   
  
Hermione couldn't even imagine what it must have been like for him. He had spent so much time and energy ensuring that he would never have what he wanted. Hadn't Sirius been through enough hardships in life? The very idea of it made her heart hurt for him. Life had been so unfair for him. The many sleepless nights that she spent for him paled in comparison to what seemed to be years of devotion.   
  
Things were clearer now. His abrupt departure during their sixth year followed by his silence and coldness to her. That one desperate kiss. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably as thoughts of the morning's earlier activities came momentarily to a forefront in her mind. She liked kissing him. She had liked the kiss in her seventh year, that hard, frightening kiss. It had been full of more want and passion than she had ever felt before from one person. It had been, at least, until Sirius kissed her again.   
  
This was all starting to be a bit too much for Hermione. If she had been asked yesterday afternoon whether or not Sirius Black liked her, she would have had to say no, but now...now she could hardly put it into words. And not for the last time she wished that Harry and Ron were here. She wished that things were as they were, as they had always been, she was breaking under the pressure.  
  
Sirius Black was in love with her. He had always been in love with her. He would be returning to her and he would be expecting an answer to his unasked question.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"You've been in an off mood all day." Draco said as he handed her a fresh mug of coffee.  
  
Hermione wouldn't meet his eyes, "I do not know what you are talking about. I am fine, just a little tired." She allowed herself a slight smirk that she had learned from him, "for some reason there just didn't seem to be much room on my bed."  
  
"Granger, Granger, Granger," He settled into a chair across the table from her own. "How many times do I have to tell you that you are a terrible liar? You can't even manage to change topics with some measure of grace."  
  
Hermione scowled up at him over a large stack of books but said nothing.  
  
"I noticed that a certain Mr. Black is missing today." Draco prodded.  
  
Hermione opened a book, Magical Maladies & Mishaps, and ignored him.  
  
"Hermione," He wheedled.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it, all right? We need to work on this."   
  
His eyes widened as if something had been confirmed for him and then he smiled at her slightly. "It'll turn out all right, you know."  
  
She looked up in surprise, dark curls falling back, "What?"  
  
But Draco just smiled that smile and ignored her questions. After a while, Hermione just let it go, and Draco continued to smile at her long after anything that even remotely resembled happiness was gone from his eyes.  
  
Hours later, well after they had shared a plate of cheese sandwiches, Hermione had an idea.  
  
"Draco, do you know anything about the enchantments that Voldemort has on himself?"   
  
Draco nearly choked; he had been relaxing on the sofa eating a few pieces of Mrs. Weasley's fudge that he had found in the icebox. "What?"  
  
"You know," Hermione said impatiently as she stood up, pacing seemed to help her think, "Voldemort wandered the world as some sort of spirit form until he had a new body created for him, what type of enchantments did he use to enable that ability?"   
  
"Uh...well, loads of black magic for starters, why?" Draco had learned, just as Harry and Ron had, that Hermione's sudden burst of inspiration could be quite frightening.   
  
"Oh don't look at me like that!" She snapped at his expression, "I think I might be onto something."  
  
"You don't say?" The snide remark was out before he could stop it. "Sorry, sorry," He said quickly as her eyes flashed, "please tell me what you're going on about."  
  
Hermione dragged a chair over to where Draco sat. "I've been trying to think of a way to banish his soul once his new body has been destroyed but I haven't been able to find anything. But in all the books that I've read, wizard and muggle, they've all agreed on one thing. Once the body is destroyed the soul should depart from this plane of existence. The soul should move over to whatever comes after this life."   
  
"Unless said soul becomes a ghost or a poltergeist." Draco interrupted.  
  
"That's true, but Voldemort was never a ghost, was he? He never really died because his body was just a shell."  
  
"A shell?"  
  
"Your soul and your body are one living entity. You shouldn't be able to live without one or the other. But Voldemort did, he continued to live on after his body was gone."   
  
Draco frowned as he listened. "He funneled enough magical power into his soul that he didn't need his body anymore. He was able to keep going for years without a body. But how...?"  
  
"How was he able to make the separation between his soul and his body before the attacks on Harry? I'm not sure. That's what we need to find out as soon as possible." Hermione had begun to unconsciously tug on a curl.  
  
"Why would knowing that help?"   
  
"Because if we know how he did it we can reverse it. If it is reversed and then he is killed, his soul won't be able to linger on this plain anymore as a malicious entity, he'll be forced over to the other side."   
  
Draco reached out and grasped her hand to prevent her from pulling the lock of hair from her head. "I'm not sure what spells he used, but I know that most of it is very dark magic."   
  
Hermione smile at him, "well, that is your specialty, isn't it, Draco?"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was dangerous for him, Hermione had no doubt, but Draco always said that he liked danger and Hermione imagined that he was starting to get a little stir-crazy here in her flat. He hadn't left it in days. So when he offered to sneak into Diagon alley and visit one of the numerous, Draco assured her, Malfoy vaults in order to relieve it of some of its ancient dark magic books, Hermione didn't spend a great deal of effort trying to dissuade him. In fact, as he wrapped himself up his top-of-the-line invisibility cloak his eyes gleamed far brighter than they had for a day or two.   
  
Now that he was gone, she was all alone, Hermione hadn't been by herself here, since, well, she couldn't remember ever being in that situation in her flat. When Harry and Ron were still there they never left her alone. They had never said so, but Hermione had always known that they made a point to never leave her completely solitary. Ron or Harry was always there. In fact, Hermione couldn't remember the last me that she did anything by herself. Ever since the attack on the Underground, no one ever let her be. It used to drive her absolutely mad. The way that Harry and Ron always insisted on hovering around her, like she needed Ron to go robe shopping with her. He hated that. You would think that she had twisted his arm into going with her all those times when really she always tried to steal out of the flat without them knowing but that long ago spell made sneaking very difficult when Harry or Ron were involved.  
  
They had moved into the flat for that reason, for their need to always be there, Hermione knew that they never got over the fact that they hadn't been there before. Not that they should have been. She couldn't ever make them understand that they weren't responsible. That she just happened to be in the wrong place at the worst possible time. But Harry and Ron never really listened and a part of Hermione appreciated never being alone.   
  
When they had come up with the plan, when Harry had come up with the plan, her being alone had been one of the biggest concerns. It shouldn't have been, but it was. She had worried about it. It had been so long since she had been without Harry or Ron. How could she come back to this dead apartment? How could she do anything without them? But then Sirius had come and then Draco. And things hadn't been as bad.   
  
Hermione was alone now.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
She wasn't alone for long.   
  
Sometime that late, overcast afternoon Hermione had a visitor ring her bell. It was immediately unsettling, no one ever rang her bell, all the neighbors knocked and by now Sirius and Draco knew her lack of discipline when it came to warding the door so they usually tended to walk right in.  
  
With a good measure of trepidation Hermione approached the door. Her wand was held tightly in her hand. She forced her thoughts to focus as Professor Bankotsu had taught her. Hermione leaned against the wall by the door her mind creating a picture of the visitor awaiting a response. It was a man, tall and older. It was someone familiar, someone that she knew.   
  
"Yes?" She responded finally really not wanting to open her door.  
  
"Ms. Granger? I've been sent by the Ministry, we have a few questions for you." A cold voice asked.  
  
Hermione's shoulders slouched. In truth, she had been expecting this. It was only her connections to Albus Dumbledore that had kept the questioning Aurors at bay for so long. But now, to send this man to her, there must be serious concerns over the validity of her story.  
  
Hermione opened the door slowly and gazed up at her former Professor whom she had wished to the farthest depths of hell two years ago. "Mulicber."  
  
The older man looked back down at her with a cold smile lighting his sharp blue eyes as if he was finding a great deal of enjoyment out of the situation. Hermione figured that he probably was.   
  
"May I come in, Ms. Granger?"   
  
Hermione lowered her head, she could tell him no but he would only come back later with reinforcements, so Hermione nodded and stepped backwards allowing him to brush past her into the flat.   
  
He looked around himself once he was inside, his quick eyes took in the extra blankets on the couch, the scattered paper work, the dirty dishes in the sink that could not possibly have come from one person alone. Hermione stood at the end of the hall next to Harry's door and watched him.  
  
"Been entertaining, have you?"  
  
"I have had company." Hermione replied vaguely. He had no reason to be suspicious. There was nothing wrong with having people over after a death.  
  
"But you are all alone now?" He asked rhetorically.  
  
She could offer him a seat or a cup of tea but Hermione didn't want to be so welcoming. Mulciber had no qualms concerning her hospitality, or lack there of, as he sat down at the table. One of his well manicured hands reached out to take up her notes. Hermione moved quickly forward to snatch them back.   
  
"What do you want?" She asked coldly, rudely.  
  
He smiled at her coldness glinting in his eyes, "So many things."   
  
An angry flush colored her cheeks. How dare he speak to her like that? She was an Auror, his equal, not some ignorant student whom he could wield his power over. Hermione was no longer someone that he could intimidate with heated gazes and suggestive dialogue. Though her hand did slip into her pocket to reassuringly palm her wand nonetheless.  
  
He laughed, "You act like I'm going to attack you, Hermione."  
  
She flinched at the use of her name. "Are you?"  
  
He switched topics. "What made you three decide to go to Malfoy Manor? There has never any direct connection between the Malfoys and the Dark Lord." The smile was gone and he was suddenly very serious.  
  
The fact that he did not answer her question did not slip her notice.  
  
"Is this an official Ministry question?" Hermione answered his question with a question. If this was an official meeting then she was obligated to speak to him. If it wasn't, however, then Hermione had every intention of throwing him out of her home.   
  
"Do you think that I'm here for my own amusement?"  
  
"I certainly would not put it past you, Sir."  
  
He casually placed one elbow on her kitchen table, leaned his chin into his hand, and crossed one leg over the other. "Answer my question, Ms. Granger."  
  
While he spoke he removed a dark blue quill with a silver tip engraved with the Ministry seal from an inner pocket of his robe. He set it; point down, on her table. It was a Veridicus Quill. It was similar to a Quick Quotes Quill but it was far more reliable. It would record everything that was said as it was said, no enhancements, no untruths. It was heavily enchanted to guard against outside interference and tampering. It required no parchment only a smooth surface. Aurors often used it while interrogating a suspect. Hermione herself had used one in the past on occasion.   
  
Hermione stepped back from him, and went to her desk. She carefully arranged her notes, her back turned towards him, but never once was her attention not fully focused on the man behind her. Hermione turned finally to look at him, her hands once again submerging themselves into her pockets, fingers finding her wand. She could not allow herself to be taken in to custody if Mulciber saw fit to try, not when they were so close, not when they were almost done.   
  
After a long pause in which Hermione studied Mulciber warily she finally spoke. "We received information leading us to believe that the Malfoys were indeed Death Eaters who strongly supported Voldemort."   
  
His eyes glinted at the use of the name. "And who gave you such information?"  
  
It never failed to surprise her, the way people reacted to the name Voldemort as if the word itself would invoke the dark wizard's corporeal presence right there in their midst   
  
"You know that I cannot give you the name of my source." Hermione said carefully choosing her words. "For their safety, of course."  
  
Mulciber casually studied his hand, "You attended Hogwarts with the younger Malfoy, Draco, didn't you?"  
  
She refused to let any reaction to her friends' name color her expression. "I believe you are right."  
  
"What was your affiliation with young Mister Malfoy?" A wicked smile, one that made Hermione think that he was envisioning her relationship with Draco in a highly carnal fashion, spread across his face.  
  
Dirty old bastard.  
  
"He hated us and the feeling was mutual." The lie was easy. "There was not much more to our relationship than that."  
  
He was still smiling like he knew more about it than he should. "So that was all there was? There was nothing more between you two? No secret passion that might lead him to betray his Lord?" His eyes were glinting brightly again with that half-mad light that she remembered from the time he had accosted her at Aylesbury.   
  
Hermione frowned at his words, alarm bells going off, she did not like where this was going. "What is the Ministry's interest in Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Mulciber sat straighter, "You don't know? No, I suppose you wouldn't, having holed yourself up here. Draco Malfoy went missing about two weeks ago. Right after the unfortunate incident concerning Misters Potter and Weasley."   
  
He was watching her closely for any reaction. Hermione could see it easily in his too bright eyes that he suspected something. She kept her gaze straight and steady, forcing herself to calm just like she had been taught. Hermione would not let him get to her.  
  
"No, I did not know that." She casually brushed back a lock of a hair, a move that on most would tell of subconscious nervousness but Hermione was in touch with her normal nuances, to eliminate her familiar motions would only signify to Mulciber that she was indeed hiding something. If she acted in anyway out of the ordinary he would have the whole Ministry upon her before she could blink.  
  
Mulciber rose from his seat, unfolding himself easily, and took several small steps towards her. It took all of her willpower not to back away from the smiling man.  
  
"We believe that Draco Malfoy has valuable information concerning the Dark Lord. His life is in danger. The Ministry is willing to offer him protection if he can be of some assistance." His arms were crossed back behind his back. He stood before much as he had in the days when she was a student.   
  
"Malfoy was no fool." Hermione responded to the unasked question. "If he is in danger then I am certain he would have fled Britain immediately."  
  
He came to a stop very close to her. Hermione focused on studying the man in order to fight back the nervous tremble that wanted to shoot up her spine. His light brown hair was streaked with far more gray than it had the last time she saw him. More lines scarred his face giving him an older, rugged look. She couldn't deny that he was handsome in that older gentleman sort of way. But she despised everything about him. This man had persecuted Sirius. Had helped drag him off to Azkaban without finding out whether he was innocent or not. This man was disgusting.   
  
"I thought you said," He smiled, shining sharp looking white teeth at her, "that you and Malfoy hated each other." He obviously thought that he had caught her in a lie.  
  
"I did." Hermione allowed a smirk that she had learned from the man in question cross her lips. "And we did hate each other. But I'm not fool enough to ignore his intelligence. That is one of the first rules we learned at Aylesbury, never underestimate your enemy."   
  
"Yet, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are both dead and buried now, aren't they?"   
  
Hermione bit the tip of her tongue in order to keep her thoughts to herself. If they really had been killed, Harry and Ron, she would be hysterical now. What type of person would willingly inflict this sort of mental barrage on another human being, on a colleague?  
  
"You're very callus, Ms. Granger." He raised one hand quickly, tracing the edge of her cheek, before she could pull away. "I could see it back then at Aylesbury. You had such promise. We could have done amazing things together."  
  
Hermione jerked away from him with an angry noise. She shoved past him, intent on showing him the door, he could damn well come back with fifty Aurors for all she cared. "You are a bastard." She shot over her shoulder at him. "I would never, ever, do anything with you."  
  
There was a sound from the far end of the hall. Someone was opening the door. One of her guests had come home.  
  
"No," Hermione whispered then louder, "No, g..."  
  
Mulciber grabbed her from behind, one hand harshly covering her mouth while the other fought for her wand and won. "Shh, it's all right little lamb." He breathed heavily in her ear as he pocketed her wand before bringing his own up to press against her throat, "Let us see who's come to visit." 


	22. It was nice being Loved

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I own nothing.  
  
AN: All right, new chapters! Just a few notes here...  
  
I've gotten a couple of reviews stating that this fic isn't up to date. So for anyone who has just started reading this fic you need to understand that most of ANFSCD was posted BEFORE OotP came out. Once OotP came out I decided to not take the events of the 5th book into this fic. I'll be incorporating OotP in my next fic.  
  
I have a Live Journal account if anyone cares, I post there fairly regularly. Most of it is personal stuff that no one but me cares about but I do discuss how far along I am with the chapters that I'm writing. I also post snippets of other fics there that I'm tinkering around with. So that might make it a bit more interesting.  
  
For anyone who is interested in finding more Sirius/Hermione fics or would like to discuss the relationship with other, like-minded people please check out the Puppy Love forum (I wish we had a better name) at Fiction Alley. There Sirius/Hermione shippers discuss the relationship, recommend other fics, and participate in challenges. We always need more posters!  
  
I'll put the links to my journal and Fiction Alley in my bio on the main page. They keep breaking my upload! Please check them out!

* * *

"He's really very handsome, Hermione, and he's a dentist!"  
  
Hermione took the proffered plate of creamed asparagus before passing it to her father. "I'm sure that he is, Mom, but I'm really not interested in meeting someone right..."  
  
Her mother's smile tightened into that desperate expression that she had taken to wearing after Hermione's attack. She nervously tucked a loose curl back up into her dark brown bun. "I just think that you're letting all these opportunities pass you by."  
  
"I won't be young forever, yes, I know that, Mom."  
  
"I just meant," She paused and looked to her husband. Hermione's father was reading his evening paper as thoroughly as a priest reads the Bible. The older woman bit her lip at the lack of support before continuing on. "Now that you live with Harry and Ron it's even harder for you meet men. You'll never find someone to settle down with if you're with them all the time."  
  
Hermione groaned. They had had this conversation ever since she had started having supper at their house every Sunday, at least a month now. "I'm only nineteen! I'm not looking to settle down. And even if I was it would not be with a muggle dentist!"  
  
"Your father is a muggle dentist!" Her mother's voice was suddenly shrill as her forced calm broke.  
  
Hermione pushed her chair back from the table with a harsh scraping noise. "Thank you for dinner, I will see you next Sunday." She gave her father a peck on the cheek, pulled on her coat, and pointedly ignored her mother as she stormed out into cool evening air.  
  
Harry was waiting for her at the end of the drive. He was dressed causally in old jeans and a sweatshirt advertising Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione was wearing a white blouse with little pearl buttons and a pleated navy skirt. Her hair was swept up into a French twist that she had magicked into place. Anyone looking at them as they walked down the street together would have commented on the oddness of the couple.  
  
"You could have come in." Hermione said finally after they had gone a block.  
  
Harry shook his head, jet hair jauntily pointing straight up, "You guys were having a discussion."  
  
"We were fighting." Hermione replied heatedly. "We never use to fight, ever. I can't remember having a single argument with them while I was in Hogwarts. She always used to support me." She broke off abruptly and bowed her head. "I don't like fighting with her."  
  
They walked on silently towards the nearest Underground access. It was safer now. There was heightened security from the muggle government and the Ministry alike. Conspicuous armed guards that looked suspiciously like casually dressed military men prowled the area while virtually unnoticeable Aurors silently apparated in and out of each station every 15 minutes. Harry nodded to one of these men as they passed him while boarding the train.  
  
There was no room to sit so Hermione and Harry stood closely together and held onto the rail above. There was no reason why they couldn't have apparated back to the flat, no reason other than they both found an odd bit of comfort in the decidedly muggle action of riding the Underground.  
  
"She's got some new boy that she wants me to meet." Hermione spoke suddenly.  
  
Harry laughed once before he quickly suppressed it, "Well, why don't you?"  
  
She turned to glare at her friend. "What?" Her voice was dangerously low.  
  
Harry shrugged sheepishly, his glasses catching the fluorescent light from above making it impossible for Hermione to read his expression. "I just think that it would be an easy way to make your mother happy, if you went out to dinner with some dentist friend of hers."  
  
"But he's a muggle, Harry!"  
  
"Since when do you have a problem with muggles?" He asked evenly.  
  
He was goading her.  
  
"You know what I mean, Harry. I'm a witch, if I were to see a muggle I would have to lie." She sighed and tightened her hands on the cool metal rail. "I have enough secrets to worry about as it is."  
  
"Might be nice though," Harry looked away from her and watched the quickly passing graffiti, his voice suddenly very far away, "To have something normal going on in your life. Something that doesn't focus on evil wizards or saving the world."  
  
Hermione found herself nodding in agreement, it would be nice, to be ordinary again. "Well, it can't really hurt things."  
  
"And just think how happy your Mum will be." Harry grinned at her.  
  
The train came to a jerking stop. Hermione would have fallen; she was still a little weak, had Harry not quickly grasped her arm. The doors opened, letting in a rush of chill air; winter was approaching but they hadn't started heating the stations yet. Hermione pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat as they left the train in a throng of people.  
  
"It would be nice," Hermione started again once they were back out on the street, "to not have to listen to her go on and on about how wonderful he is. No one is that perfect."  
  
"If your mother likes him, he's probably very nice."  
  
--  
  
Her mother, who was so ecstatic at the prospect of her daughter dating a dentist, had nearly burst into tears when Hermione had left the house to meet him. She had even gone so far as to orchestrate their first meeting. Her mother had insisted that she leave from the house so that Hermione could be given a thorough once over before meeting what would hopefully be a future son-in-law. After several arguments involving whether she would or would not be wearing the green dress Hermione was finally allowed out of the house wearing her simple tweed skirt, thick stockings, her favorite muggle blouse, and her caramel colored coat. She had fought her mother tooth and nail to avoid that blasted dress that her Aunt June had given her.  
  
Ron was present for the entire thing. He seemed to think it necessary to escort her. Hermione had given up that battle with Ron and Harry a month ago, they followed her everywhere, with or without her consent. It ended up being easier to just allow them to come. He spent the early afternoon watching the telly with her father while Hermione and her mother dueled heatedly over whether or not her hair should be up or down. Ron seemed to find the whole situation rather amusing; he couldn't bring himself to stop laughing in the cab ride over to the small tearoom while Hermione pulled her hair out of the fanciful knot that her mother had forced it into.  
  
Tea was so proper, so appropriate for a casual but-not-to-casual first date. This was the probably the straw that broke the camel's back as far as tea was concerned for Hermione. Draco had been forcing more and more coffee on her and it had been so long since she had been in a place like this that she immediately found it unsettling. There were lacey, white curtains swept along the sides of the windows. The tables were small and private, covered with equally matching tablecloths. Hermione thought it probable that they were made of the same material. She had shuddered as she stood just inside the door, the heady smell of roses leaked from a room deodorizer that she could see plugged in along the far wall. An elderly woman who was trying to hard to appear young materialized in front of her.  
  
"May I help you, dear?" She peered at Hermione through fake blue contacts, sizing up her appearance, and lack of companion.  
  
Hermione had told Ron that he could bloody well sod off. He was not about to come inside in order to hover like a chaperone around her and the poor, unsuspecting dentist. Shocked at her language but not altogether disapproving he had sauntered off promising to keep a more distant eye on her. Hermione realized that she was going to have to have a serious talk with the both Harry and Ron if she ever hoped to have a love life. Not that she agreed to this date in order to have a love life, only to appease her mother. Hermione wasn't lonely. Really, she wasn't.  
  
Hermione offered the woman a smile, "I am supposed to meet someone-"  
  
A man at the table closest to the door stood suddenly, Hermione watched him adjust his coat objectively out of the corner of her eye before turning towards him. He smiled at her as their eyes met. His were green. But not green like Harry's. Not those dark, green eyes of her best friend who had experienced unspeakable tragedy. No, these eyes were light and happy, the eyes of an innocent.  
  
"Hermione Granger?" He asked hopefully.  
  
She smiled warmly at him, "Yes. You must be Daniel."  
  
He took her hand in his. It was strong and smooth. Hands not use to toil, or potions for that matter. But Hermione found herself not minding. His handshake was confident, much like the rest of him she would learn.  
  
"Would you like to sit down?"  
  
"Oh yes," Hermione replied almost nervously. Yes, he was handsome but that was no reason for her to suddenly become all twitter patted by his attention. After all, she hadn't even wanted to be there in the first place.  
  
They talked for a few minutes, the conversation was strained, and he seemed increasingly uncomfortable. Hermione was becoming fidgety, her eyes kept wandering to the lace clad windows, wondering if Ron was near enough to rescue her from what was turning quickly into a rather awkward experience. Although she quite imagined that Ron would be find the whole situation funny. He really had been spending a bit too much time with his older brothers.  
  
"Your mother never told me what you do." He was fishing for a conversation starter.  
  
Hermione shifted nervously in her chair, "Oh, it's nothing exciting. I do a little consulting work here and there."  
  
He smiled half-heartedly at her. His foot began to tap rhythmically against the floor as if he couldn't wait to bolt for the door. Daniel ran one hand through his auburn hair that didn't need fixing. It was already perfect, just like the rest of him. How could her mother have ever thought that she could be compatible with such a proper paragon?  
  
"Here's your tea, loves." A waitress set a paisley teapot soundly in front of them.  
  
Daniel sighed deeply while pouring the Earl Grey. He handed one cup to her then brought his own up to his mouth where he took a hesitant sip. Hermione swirled hers about, thinking of all those wretched tea readings she had once had to do with Trelawney, then she realized a subtle truth that her English nature had been fighting all her life.  
  
Hermione screwed up her face and uttered three little words that her perfectly English mother would have fainted over had she been present. "I hate tea."  
  
Daniel looked up in shock; his own horrendously colored cup just millimeters from his mouth. "You do?"  
  
Hermione nodded, set her cup down forcefully, and folded her arms across her chest waiting for his reaction.  
  
"Christ, so do I!" He exclaimed. His teacup was soon sharing a place in exile right next to hers. He leaned forward and whispered at her. "I would rather be anywhere else than in a place like this."  
  
Hermione leaned forward so that they were only a breath apart and said in a secretively, low voice, "My mother would die if she ever heard me say that."  
  
He laughed, a hearty, toe-warming laugh that made Hermione smile. "The only time I ever drink tea is with my Mum. She still thinks I take it with gobs of sugar, honey, and cream. I can feel my teeth rotting away every time I taste that horrid stuff."  
  
Hermione giggled, an odd reaction from her, but he seemed to like it. His already bright eyes lightened even further and little laugh lines materialized around them as he laughed even harder at their predicament.  
  
He suddenly took her hand in his again. "Tell me, if you hate tea and I hate tea, why are we still here?"  
  
"I have no idea, but I am more than willing to make a hasty exit."  
  
He threw a couple of pounds onto the table. Before helping her into her coat. He tucked her arm easily into the crook of his own and led her from the tearoom.  
  
And just as Harry had predicted Daniel Havers was very nice.  
  
--  
  
Late autumn rain had been falling for days. It was slow but incessant. No matter what they did the flat was always a bit damp and cold.  
  
She sneezed once then coughed. Harry looked up from where he was sitting on the couch across from her and Ron leaned out of the kitchen. They both watched her silently. Hermione rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled as she tried to ignore them. Ron was drying his hands on a kitchen towel. He had become deliciously domestic now that they had the flat, which was good because Hermione could barely make toast and Harry had burned his fair share of suppers. Harry had been reading the Dailey Prophet, looking for tell tale signs of Death Eater activity.  
  
"Hermione?" Harry prompted.  
  
She pretended that she hadn't heard him. The updated edition of Moste Potent Potions was terribly interesting after all.  
  
"Hermione-" Ron began.  
  
"It was only one cough!" Hermione snapped the book closed.  
  
Harry folded his paper looking concerned. "You know what the doctors said."  
  
Hermione unfolded herself from her most favorite chair. She replaced the book on its spot on the bookshelf. Harry was frowning at her. Hermione never would have guessed that he could be such a mother hen at times. Ron wasn't a whole lot better either. They fussed around her almost as badly as her mother did.  
  
In fact, as she turned her back on Harry, Hermione was completely caught off guard by Ron who had left the kitchen and was now holding a steaming mug out to her. Hermione looked at the mug, at him, and then back at the mug again. A frown tugged at her lips.  
  
"But I don't like it," She muttered.  
  
Ron's frown matched her own. "I am willing to force feed it to you."  
  
"You wouldn't dare."  
  
"Harry." Ron called.  
  
Harry sighed, folded his paper, and then stood up.  
  
"All right," Hermione snatched the mug from Ron's hand, careful not to spill the potion that she herself had spent four hours brewing the day before last. She had forced it on Ron and Harry after they had insisted on playing Quidditch outside in the rain with the twins when they had all gone over to the Burrow. "But someone really ought to make this taste better." Her face screwed up unpleasantly at the flavor.  
  
The ensuing argument having been derailed Harry laughed. "Tell me about it, how much of that stuff have you made us drink?" Harry slouched back onto the sofa contentedly. "Oh Harry," He mimicked her voice, "you're looking a little peaked. Have some Pepper Up potion." He rifled through the paper. "Oh Harry, have you always been that pale? Have some Pepper Up potion!" He was smirking to himself. "Oh Harry-" He looked up, saw her expression, and nervously cleared his throat. "Right then."  
  
Hot steam was beginning to rise from her hair. The moist warmth of it made the already crazy curls thicker and tighter in a matter of seconds.  
  
"When did you start sneezing?"  
  
Hermione looked up into Ron's bright, blue eyes. He was gazing suspiciously at her. Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, turning the mug carefully in her hands while she looked away from him.  
  
"Oh, I am not really sure, yesterday maybe."  
  
"Maybe?" His voice was disbelieving. "C'mon Hermione."  
  
"Three days ago."  
  
"What?!"  
  
Hermione winced at the intensity of his voice. "I feel fine, really. I would have taken it right away if I felt bad at all. But I don't, it's just a little cold."  
  
"A little cold?" Ron was fuming, his face pale, ears pink. "Don't you remember what the doctors at St. Mungo's said about a 'little cold'?"  
  
She stared at the floor like a chastised child. Hermione found herself pitying any offspring that Ron might have in the future.  
  
"You're too weak to have a cold. If you get sick-"  
  
Feeling very contrite, Hermione tried to explain, "I am not sick, I feel fine, I am stronger every day."  
  
He obviously doubted her sincerity.  
  
There was a knock at the front door.  
  
The trio exchanged quick glances as if they could ascertain telepathically whether company was expected. But the spell that seemed to intertwine their souls had not reached that point of power. Ron shrugged, Hermione shook her head, and Harry stood back up. They followed closely on one another's heals as they approached the door. Harry, of course, opened the door cautiously. His wand held easily in his hand in case he needed to defend himself. Hermione and Ron stood a bit further back, each at the ready, but there was no need for wands.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry cried out happily as he pulled his beleaguered godfather into the flat.  
  
The older man stumbled under the onslaught of Harry's affection. But he didn't appear to mind, a large grin was on his face making him look young. Hermione felt that odd excitement stir that she always felt when near him but then he looked up and saw her.  
  
His smile faded.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Harry was talking excitedly, "you should have sent word."  
  
Hermione turned away, not wanting to see that expression on Sirius' face, that expression that whispered of her faults. She drowned the rest of the Pepper Up potion in one quick swig and took the mug into the kitchen to wash. The warm water ran comfortingly over her hands. As always, Hermione could have magicked it clean but she found an odd calmness in the muggle act of cleaning. Her eyes wandered over the dishes in the sink. There were more than was necessary considering that she always washed hers right away and Harry and Ron were both equally capable of charming theirs clean. But at the moment Hermione couldn't work up the gumption to be annoyed, and it gave her something to do while Harry, Ron, and Sirius caught up in the living room.  
  
She had been in St. Mungo's the last time she saw him, that was almost two and half months ago. He had been kind then, hadn't he? Soothing and warm in the darkness. Hermione could have sworn that he held her in his arms. That he had kissed her forehead, but that couldn't possibly be right. There was no way that the man she remembered from the hospital was the same man who couldn't even stand to smile in her presence.  
  
"Hallucinating." She muttered.  
  
"Are you?"  
  
And there he was.  
  
It took a great deal of discipline not to back away from him. She schooled her thoughts towards the dishes in the sink instead. Hermione refused to let him see how much he got under her skin.  
  
"No, I am not hallucinating." Was her curt reply.  
  
He stepped towards her. One hand rose to touch her shoulder but he let that fall. "Ron says that you're sick."  
  
Hermione frowned at a mug from a set that Fred and George had given them as a house warming present, it had a particularly vulgar slogan extolled across it in flashing blue letters. "Ron is overreacting. I feel fine."  
  
"Maybe," he started slowly his words carefully chosen. "If you were home, your mother-"  
  
He broke off hastily as she turned on him.  
  
"Don't you ever talk to me about my mother again, you haven't the right." Her hands were shaking so badly that she feared breaking the dishes so she pushed herself away from the sink and stormed past him out of the kitchen.  
  
Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had been so uncontrollably angry. There was a furious buzzing in her head. What right did he have to even suggest that she go to her mother? Why must he always try and force her away from what she wanted to do, from what she honestly believed to be her calling in life? Hermione had sworn to herself years ago that she would do anything and everything in her power to help Harry and to protect her friends.  
  
"I hadn't meant to offend you." Sirius followed after her.  
  
Hermione stopped in the living room and took a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. "Well, you are just very gifted at it then."  
  
Harry and Ron, who had been sorting out a place for Sirius to sleep, looked warily at them. Hermione did not often lose her temper. Sirius didn't seem to know how to deal with this sort of Hermione.  
  
"I'm worried about you." Sirius said slowly as if the words caused him physical pain, "everyone is, but you try to act stronger than you are."  
  
She turned to glare at him, wishing that she could find it in her to hate him.  
  
"I've tried talking to Harry and Ron. I've tried to make them understand that you shouldn't be allowed to have such dangerous lifestyle."  
  
Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. "I shouldn't be allowed?" She repeated roughly.  
  
Harry spoke quietly, "We didn't agree with him."  
  
"Is that why you came here?" Her voice stronger, "To try and talk some sense into Harry and Ron?"  
  
Sirius stepped forward coming perilously close to touching her. "No, I came to talk some sense into you."  
  
Hermione smiled then, a cold, false expression. "You can go to hell then."  
  
It was very quiet.  
  
Sirius was taking a few moments to collect his thoughts. His black eyes were angry and upset; they studied Hermione with that intensity that unnerved her so. He hadn't yet showered, a dark smudge ran from the corner of his left eye to the edge of his jaw where a muscle was contracting in time with his hands that were clenching and unclenching at his sides. He finally went to speak but was interrupted by the piercing ring of the telephone.  
  
Ron, who never missed a chance to answer the telephone, answered quickly. "Hullo?" His telephone manners had greatly improved over the years. "Yes, she's here." Ron covered the receiver with his hand and held it out to Hermione. "It's Danny."  
  
Hermione frowned at Ron for the abbreviation of her boyfriend's name, he could be so juvenile sometimes, and took the phone from him. "Daniel, hello."  
  
"I know that's it's late. I'm not disturbing anything, am I?"  
  
She looked at Sirius. "No, you are not disturbing anything at all. In fact, that was really rather perfect timing on your part." Hermione curled her fingers into the phone cord as she spoke.  
  
He laughed lightly, relieved by her answer. "I was hoping that maybe you'd like to come out. There is a sushi bar near my flat that is open late. I know we have plans for Wednesday, but..." He went very quiet; "I'd like to see you tonight."  
  
"That sounds great, Daniel. Can you meet me here though?"  
  
"Sure, I can be over there in fifteen minutes, is that all right?"  
  
Hermione was smiling, her anger just a dim throb in her left temple now, "That should be a sufficient amount of time to get ready."  
  
"You don't need to get ready, Hermione, you're always beautiful."  
  
She was blushing as she hung up the phone.  
  
"W...who was that?" Sirius spoke with a voice that Hermione had never heard before, strained and remote.  
  
There was an unexplainable cruelty in her words, "He's the man I'm seeing." Turning towards Harry and Ron, "He's coming to get me, I want both you to stay here."  
  
"Hermione-" They started together.  
  
"No, I am going to be fine, I do not need bodyguards."  
  
Ron was almost plaintive, "But you have a cold."  
  
"Which I just took a Pepper Up potion for." Speaking softly now, "Please, I need a break tonight."  
  
"Go ahead," Harry spoke up, always the natural leader for the three of them, "I promise we won't follow."  
  
Hermione nodded then went to get ready. She stopped in her doorway, one small hand resting on the white frame, "Don't worry if I don't come back tonight."  
  
Sirius moved suddenly but Hermione wasn't paying enough attention to him to see what he had done. Ron's mouth was ajar and Harry looked rather shocked himself.  
  
"B...but Hermione-"he started but she cut him off.  
  
"Spoken to Professor Nettles recently?" She prodded.  
  
Harry laughed sheepishly; they really couldn't help the protective older brother urges that they had. "Have fun, Hermione."  
  
Hermione shot one last dark look at Sirius who was staring at the floor. "I intend to."  
  
--  
  
Sirius had been staying with them for over a week now. Harry and Ron couldn't be happier. Hermione found herself feeling not quite as joyful over the whole affair though. He generally left her alone, only watched her as she moved about the flat or practiced some new bit of magic in the living room. It was quite concerting, having the older man pay such close attention to every move that she made. Hermione wished he would stop.  
  
She studied her reflection in the mirror. Hermione tilted her head and applied a touch of red lipstick. The lipstick was only a shade darker than her dress. The ruby folds swept back and forth above her knees as she moved around the bathroom.  
  
Daniel was taking her to the theatre that evening. Hermione couldn't even remember what they were going to see. He had been doing marvelous things with his mouth when he asked her if she wanted to go. All Hermione had been able to remember from that conversation, besides how much fun a dentist could be when he wasn't working, well, with patients, was that she would have to look nice. Looking nice had required a new dress.  
  
Even though Hermione really wasn't an enthusiast for the color red, she had to admit that it was a great dress. It formed to her body, showing off curves that she hadn't even known she had. It was a shame that she was probably going to end up wearing her coat most of the evening; it was freezing outside.  
  
Hermione was struggling with the clasp of her necklace as she left her room. Her father had given her the string of pearls the day after she left Hogwarts. It was one of the few pieces of jewelry that she allowed herself to wear. Hermione had a couple of rings that had been given to her over the years but she never wore them. The only bracelet that she owned was the one that Draco had given her.  
  
She stopped in the living room and looked at her wrist. Harry and Ron were murmuring approval over her appearance but she didn't even hear them as she stared in shock at the green and silver braid. The string of peals escaped her careless fingers and fell to the floor. It had completely slipped her mind. Hermione turned her arm, letting the silver catch the light from the lamp. When had she put it on? Hermione frowned, had she ever taken it off? Draco never had told her what it did; she would have to pester him for a more direct answer the next time that she saw him.  
  
"You dropped this."  
  
Her eyes jerked away from the bracelet, not realizing that it was already slipping her mind, to look up at Sirius who was now standing next to her. In his hand was her necklace.  
  
"I..." Hermione was strangely dazed, "I did, thank you."  
  
She reached for it but his fingers curled compulsively around it.  
  
"Do you need help putting it on?" Strands of his dark hair were hanging low in his face, shadowing his eyes.  
  
Hermione nodded and turned, allowing him complete access to her bare neck. He stepped closer to her then lowered the pearls around her head. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, held in place with a silver clasp, leaving the curve of her throat exposed to him. Hermione felt the world slow down as his breath brushed against her skin, making goose bumps rise. There was an almost imperceptible touch of his fingers against her as he clasped the string together. Then he was backing away, turning away from her, like he couldn't feel the electrical charge in the air.  
  
She swallowed hard, fighting back rejected hurt that she shouldn't be feeling. "Thank you."  
  
He was at the window, hands on the sill, back to her. Sirius nodded in reply.  
  
"You look pretty, Hermione." Ron was blushing.  
  
She grinned at him, putting the strangeness with Sirius out of her mind. "Thanks. Now remember, you promised to leave us alone tonight."  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Ron waved his hand at her, "we wouldn't want to interfere" there was a special emphasis that did not go unnoticed. "In any of your plans."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, she was not a child anymore, she wasn't about to feel embarrassed about having an adult relationship. "Anyway, I am meeting him downstairs in a few minutes so I'll be on my way."  
  
"He never comes up here to get you." Ron grumbled, "Not proper if you ask me. If he's really serious about things he ought to come in and make his intentions clear."  
  
Hermione laughed, "You sound like your mother."  
  
Ron looked sheepish.  
  
"As for not having him come up," she looked pointedly at the smoking cauldron in the corner, Hedwig and Pig on their perches, and Ron's collection of self-levitating Canons' figurines. "I am not sure that he would understand."  
  
"Good point." Harry said in between bites of a sandwich.  
  
"Have fun, Hermione!" Ron called after her as she waved a hasty goodbye over her shoulder at them.  
  
--  
  
"That was wonderful," Hermione rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. "I never knew something that involved strangely dressed people singing in Italian could be so moving."  
  
"_La Traviata_ is my favorite opera." Daniel's fingers tangled easily with hers as they walked. "Did I mention that it was by Verdi?"  
  
With a smile Hermione poked him gently in the side with her free hand, "Yes, once or twice."  
  
"All right, I'll admit, I did go on about him the entire time, didn't I?" He paused to lightly kiss the crown of her head. "I must have been a right bore."  
  
Hermione teased, "Oh yes, you were absolutely dreadful."  
  
He stopped short and pulled her closer to him, settling a gentle kiss against her lips. "You have my deepest apologies." His breath ruffled her hair.  
  
They started walking again, hand in hand. Hermione hadn't been this happy in quite some time. It was so relaxing, being with Daniel, she hadn't a care in the world with him. He was beyond comforting. If only she didn't have to lie to him.  
  
There was no purpose in their wanderings as they headed back towards Hermione's flat. He had mentioned going back to his place but Hermione was tired. Ron was right, she was beginning to feel a little run down now, even with the help of the Pepper Up potion. She couldn't risk getting sick.  
  
Their flat had been chosen for many reason, one of them being its close proximity to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't terribly out of the ordinary for them to be passing by it, they had on several other occasions, but never once had Daniel noticed the weather-beaten sign or noticed anything out of the ordinary about that row of shops in which it was hidden.  
  
But tonight was different. Tonight there was a scream.  
  
He stopped, jerking her behind him as the cry rang out, surprising them both. "Where did that come from?"  
  
A burst of green light shone through the dirty windows of the Leaky Cauldron. Daniel flinched as if he could see it. But then, Hermione knew that even Muggles had an instinctual fear of the killing curse, even when they couldn't see it. It was that sixth sense of theirs that so many wizards liked to discount. Hermione dug in her bag and found her wand, which she shrunk to a more handbag portable size. Her other grabbed his arm and she attempted to pull him back.  
  
"We need to get out of here." Hermione told him.  
  
There was another scream. Her panic rising, Hermione resized her wand, and held it against her leg letting the folds of her coat hide it.  
  
"Where is it coming from?" Daniel cried out. Alarm was apparent in his white face as he held her behind him.  
  
The door to the Leaky Cauldron exploded outward in a shatter of old wood. Daniel could hear it; he was trembling, afraid of what he couldn't see.  
  
Hermione could hear someone sobbing. A lone figure stepped through the doorway. He was tall and draped in a black cloak. The figure looked at them through a pale Death Eater's mask. He thought they were both muggles. He stood, waiting for the enchantments of the Leaky Cauldron to fade so that they could see him as they died. Hermione pushed herself in front of Daniel before he could stop her.  
  
Then suddenly Daniel could see.  
  
"You! Where did you come from?" He was so frightened; still he tried to pull Hermione safely against him.  
  
The figure laughed and raised his wand. "Avada –"  
  
Hermione was quicker.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
The Death Eater's wand flew from his and clattered against the brick wall of the tavern behind him. He was frozen in shock, not having expected a counter attack. Then tripping over his own feet he lunged for his wand.  
  
"Stupefy!" Hermione screamed, her spell felling the man to the ground where he lay quite still.  
  
Turning back to her lover, Hermione found him collapsed on the ground, staring up at her in horrified shock.  
  
"What did you do?" His voice was hoarse. He was so frightened, of the cloaked man, and of her. Especially of her. "What are you?"  
  
Something went cold inside of her. Tears formed in her eyes then escaped unimpeded down her cheeks. He had never once looked at her like that. "I'm a witch."  
  
"You're insane."  
  
There were several loud popping sounds as Harry, Ron, and Sirius appeared around them. Daniel scrambled to his feet then fell in his fright.  
  
"What's going on?" His voice was high.  
  
"Hermione! Are you all right?" Ron and, oddly enough, Sirius were at her side in an instant while Harry approached the body.  
  
"We are all right." Hermione whispered.  
  
"We?" Ron looked past her and saw Daniel. "Oh..."  
  
Harry looked up from the prone Death Eater. "It's Rockwood."  
  
"There were screams," Hermione told Ron as she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest, "Inside the Leaky Cauldron."  
  
Ron nodded, and entered the Leaky Cauldron with his wand drawn. There were muted cries and the crying grew louder. Hermione could just make out Ron's voice as he tried to soothe whoever the survivor was.  
  
"What could Voldemort gain from making an indiscriminate attack against the Leaky Cauldron?" Sirius asked.  
  
Daniel got to his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you people?!" He yelled, making Hermione wince. "How did you all just appear? Who is this... this... Voldemort?" He turned on Hermione angrily, "And what the hell do you mean when you say you're a witch?"  
  
Sirius surprised them all by stepping forward and pulling Daniel off the ground by the lapels of his coat. "Don't you ever talk to her like that you-"  
  
"Sirius, put him down!" Hermione gasped, rushing forward.  
  
He looked at her, black eyes flaring in anger, he made a sound deep in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl and he let Daniel drop.  
  
Hermione kneeled next to him, her hand pushing back his auburn hair as she stroked his face, trying to calm him. It seemed to work.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but I don't know what's going on."  
  
"That's all right, Daniel." Hermione kissed his cheek, then his mouth, savoring his taste one last time. "This won't hurt."  
  
Daniel pulled back, "What-"  
  
"Obliviate." Hermione breathed just above a whisper as she pressed her wand to his temple.  
  
His hands dropped away from her as she stood up slowly. He looked up at her, blinking those light eyes of his. Then he smiled, that innocent smile that she loved.  
  
"Hello, do I know you?"  
  
Hermione forced a smile as she helped him to his feet. "No, I was in such a rush that I knocked you over, please forgive me."  
  
"Think nothing of it, I'm quite fond of being bowled over by pretty young ladies." He held her hand in his, the thumb running absently over her knuckles as it had so many other times. "I must have been going somewhere, but I can't quite seem to remember. That's a bit odd, isn't it?"  
  
Carefully she pulled her hand away. "You were probably on your way home."  
  
"Yes," He nodded, his eyes distant, "I must have been on my way home. Well, it was nice bumping into you."  
  
Hermione nodded, then he turned away, and walked out of her life.  
  
"Hermione?"  
  
She turned to look at Harry. "It's fine."  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
Hermione tried to smile but felt her knees go weak. She would have tumbled to the ground had Sirius not caught her. She looked up at him, surprised at the sadness she saw there. What did he care?  
  
"Hermione!" Ron and Harry cried out in unison.  
  
Pushing herself out of his arms, Hermione teetered unsteadily. "I'm just tired."  
  
"Sirius," Harry commanded, his voice not allowing any argument, "Take her home, Ron and I will be a long shortly. We need to send for the Aurors."  
  
Sirius nodded.  
  
"But I should be here to explain-"  
  
"If they need to talk to you they can do it tomorrow." Ron agreed with Harry.  
  
Hermione nodded it hardly seemed worth arguing over.  
  
Sirius didn't seem to have a problem with it either, which surprised Hermione. Instead of insisting on staying with Harry he took her arm and held it in much the same way that Daniel had only a short time before. Hermione was tempted to pull away, to say something scathing, but she was too tired. She was too sad.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sirius said after a while.  
  
She almost stopped walking in surprise.  
  
"There's no need to be." Hermione replied.  
  
"But-"  
  
Hermione sighed, "Don't worry, I wasn't in love with him."  
  
He looked at her sharply, dark eyes full of an unreadable emotion. "You weren't?"  
  
For a moment Hermione thought that he sounded relieved.  
  
Hermione shook her head. Tears stung her eyes but she pretended that she wasn't crying. "But it was nice being loved."  
  
They walked back to the flat in silence. 


	23. Feeling Death

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
AN: It's been taking me about to month to get these new chapters out. Hopefully it won't be quite so long for the next update but I can't make any promises. Thank you so much for reading; I appreciate all your thoughts and reviews!

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"Silencio!" Mulciber hissed the spell at her and Hermione felt her words of warning die in her throat.  
  
Nonetheless she squirmed in his arms trying to extricate herself.  
  
However, Mulciber was just as well trained as she was, and he knew just how to hold her in order to keep her from using any of her physical defense skills. He had yet to remove his hand from her lips so Hermione bit him. She sank her teeth into the slightly salty flesh and felt a rush of blood in her mouth.  
  
If she had expected him to cry out in pain she was sorely disappointed. The arm around her waist tightened and pulled her momentarily closer, his breath heavy and excited in her ear, before the wounded hand finally made an agonizingly slow trip down her chin to her throat leaving a red smear in its wake.  
  
The front door closed with a dull thud that heralded all the finality of death. There was a turn of the lock that Hermione rarely remembered and then heavy footsteps sounded down the halls towards them.  
  
The hand at her throat was slick with blood and tight. Hermione was becoming dizzy as it became harder to breathe. He was crushing her windpipe. Her body began to shut down in accordance with the lack of oxygen. Hermione's attempts at freedom slowed with each approaching step.  
  
Her body was completely still as Sirius entered the living room. Hermione's eyelashes fluttered desperately as she struggled to keep them open. There was a quiet moment where Sirius stared almost unbelievingly at Hermione and Mulciber.  
  
It was the Auror himself who broke the silence. "Sirius Black." He seemed to savor the sound of the name. "You're not who I expected to find here, this has just gotten very interesting indeed."  
  
With that, whatever spell that had held Sirius was broken and he lunged forward, her name on his lips.  
  
Mulciber turned his wand towards Sirius. "Crucio!" He yelled gleefully.  
  
Sirius fell to the ground with a guttural cry. His hand extended out, even with the pain, reaching for her. Mulciber was laughing at his desperate display, his hand all the while tightening around her throat as his excitement grew.  
  
Hermione stared down in horror at Sirius, her eyes clouding behind a sea of grayish spots. Her last thought before her body went limp in Mulciber's arms was why was she always so helpless to protect the people that she loved?  
  
Hermione was pooled loosely on the hard, cold floor of her flat when she regained consciousness. The old faded blue sweater that she was wearing had ridden up, exposing a good portion of her pale stomach to the cool air. Her eyes opened slowly, shimmering clouds still plagued them and she had to blink several times to clear her sight. Sirius lay not far from her, his eyes were still closed, face still taut from the residual pain of the Cruciatus curse, labored breathing told her that he was still alive but he wasn't moving.  
  
Hermione swallowed, her throat cramping painfully. "Sirius?" She asked softly, sitting up, her mind not yet caught up to the present circumstances.  
  
A hand clenched her shoulder, she was jerked off the ground, and dangled a few inches above the floor.  
  
"So concerned about Black, are we?" Mulciber deposited her onto one of the kitchen chairs as if she was nothing more burdensome to him than a bag of groceries.  
  
She glared up at him, defiance written into her frown. "What did you do to him?"  
  
"Worried?" Mulciber reached out and ran the back of his hand gently down her cheek. "I've never understood the selfless nature that others seem to possess."  
  
Hermione turned away from his hand, tussled brown curls loose around her face. "What," She repeated, "Did you do to him?"  
  
"I tortured him you silly little girl." Mulciber caught her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "But that man," his voice caught as though an unpleasant taste had overcome him for a moment, "Is the least of your concerns."  
  
"Really?" Hermione's voice was snide, her eyes flashed angrily.  
  
His grip tightened hard enough to bruise. "I don't think you fully understand the situation that you're in."  
  
Hermione blinked dolefully up at him. Her hands were gripping her blue-jean covered knees, the urge to scratch out his eyes making her fingers twitch excitedly.  
  
"Over there on your floor is Sirius Black, one of the Ministry's most wanted fugitives. Your best friends died in a rather suspect manner. And you have been acting quite guilty. You reputation as an Auror is in jeopardy, your livelihood, why your very freedom is on the line." The hand on her chin gentled then released as he went to tuck a curl back behind her ear. "I want to help you."  
  
Sirius was beginning to stir behind Mulciber.  
  
Hermione knew that she had to keep the Auror distracted, keep him talking. "Why would you help me?"  
  
Mulciber smiled, a truly disturbing sight, and let his fingers caress her cheek again. "I've always admired you, Ms. Granger."  
  
Sirius' eyes opened then narrowed with anger at Mulciber's back. Hermione silently prayed that he wouldn't do anything stupid.  
  
"You're lying." She argued, her tone louder. "You despised me, and the others."  
  
"Oh dear, you misunderstood, perhaps I came on too strong the last time?"  
  
His direct reference to that awful meeting in his office made Hermione shudder.  
  
"I did despise you, I still do, in fact." He was still smiling. "You were always so good, so self-righteous, it was nauseating. You had no understanding of how the world works. But there were certain qualities that you possessed that I found appealing." He took a moment to let lascivious eyes roam over her. "I would truly have liked to mentor you. I could have shown you so many things, led you to such great power." Mulciber's eyes were bright with excitement, "I still can, too."  
  
Hermione swallowed, the man was insane, he wasn't making any sense. He should have called for more Aurors by now. He should have dragged them off to Azkaban. He should not be standing there offering to help Hermione. "You've gone mad, haven't you?" She asked. "One to many curses come your way?"  
  
He struck her.  
  
The back of his hand connected with the side of her face in a motion so quick and smooth that she hadn't even known it was coming. Blood began to dribble from her split lip almost immediately but she didn't notice because at the very moment that Mulciber's hard knuckled hand had collided with her delicate cheek Sirius had lunged off the floor at him.  
  
There was a crackle of sound and a dull flash of light and Sirius fell backwards onto the floor looking dazed. Mulciber turned slowly as if he had all the time in the world and Sirius was nothing more than a troublesome fly.  
  
"Sirius!" Hermione screamed, lunging forward.  
  
Mulciber knocked her back easily. He uttered a charm that she couldn't here and tight ropes bound her to the chair. Hermione glared hatefully at him, tears wet in her eyes. He turned away from her.  
  
"So you've woken up already? I am surprised, you must be far more use to the Cruciatus curse than I originally thought."  
  
Sirius stood slowly, his eyes black as the inside of a tomb, his hands in fists. He looked past Mulciber to Hermione, eyes going soft and warm as he looked at the younger girl. "Are you all right, Hermione?"  
  
She nodded mutely, hand rising finally to wipe at the dripping blood.  
  
"This is sweet." Mulciber grinned at Black. "It's a good thing that I thought to cast that Cavea spell. It's normally used to corral dangerous animals, I thought it suitably appropriate for you."  
  
Sirius reached out, his hand connecting with the invisible border. There was another flash of light and he pulled back, cradling his hand. He was looking desperate.  
  
"She has nothing to do with this." Sirius said softly. "I'll come with you. I won't fight. But she has nothing to do with this. D... don't hurt her anymore." He pleaded.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll just hurt you instead." Mulciber replied as he cast the Cruciatus on Sirius once again.  
  
Hermione struggled against the ropes, "Stop it! Leave him alone! He hasn't done anything wrong! He never killed Harry's parents. He never killed that wretched Peter Pettigrew." The ropes cut into her flesh. "Please..." great tears began to roll down her cheeks as her voice broke, "please, you have to believe me."  
  
Mulciber allowed the spell to drop. He turned to look at Hermione. "Dear girl, I already know that."  
  
Sirius was breathing hard but already able to push himself up in order to look at Mulciber.  
  
Hermione blinked at the Auror, "you already know? I don't... I don't understand, why did you come here if you already-"  
  
He cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I didn't come here looking for Sirius Black. This is just an added bonus."  
  
"What do you want?" Hermione's voice was tiny. This was wrong, this was all wrong; nothing about Mulciber's actions was making sense.  
  
"Information." He was smiling, he was always smiling, and it was an expression ill suited to his face. Smiling showed off his too sharp teeth, smiling made cruel wrinkles crease his face, and smiling made those sharp, blue eyes narrrower.  
  
"Information?"  
  
"Where is Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Hermione settled back against the chair as she stared up at his quick, blue eyes. The pieces started to fall into place, he hadn't asked her anything about Sirius, nothing concerning Harry and Ron, no interest in what really happened in the Malfoy Manor. All he had been wanted from the very beginning was Draco.  
  
"I already told you that I do not-"  
  
He hit her again.  
  
Sirius growled from his place on the floor. "Don't touch her!"  
  
"Where is Draco Malfoy?" He repeated. "All I want is the boy, if you help me, I'll go away. You and Black can go back to whatever odd little home life you've been enjoying." He smirked at Sirius. "She is a delicious little thing, I can't blame you for wanting a taste."  
  
Mulciber's hand slid down her cheek and caressed the skin at the nape of her neck.  
  
Hermione ignored the blood as it dribbled down her chin, "You are repulsive." She voice was calm, she was an Auror after all, and she wasn't going to let him to get to her.  
  
But he was quite successful against Sirius. Harry's godfather was trembling in rage. "Keep your hands off of her." He growled.  
  
If they weren't in such a dire predicament, Hermione might have rolled her eyes; Sirius was playing right into Mulciber's hands.  
  
"As I said, all I want is Malfoy, and there is apparently no love lost between you two." Mulciber was waiting for a response from Hermione.  
  
Hermione held her head high. "You are right, there is no love lost between us. So thus, I really can't be of any help to you."  
  
He hit her again.  
  
Sirius was on his feet, sputtering angrily, "Leave her alone!"  
  
Mulciber looked at the other man appraisingly before striking her again.  
  
"Hermione!" Sirius gasped as if her pain hurt him, "Just tell him..."  
  
Hermione cut him off, "Be quiet, Sirius, do you really think he is just going to go away quietly once he gets what he wants?"  
  
Mulciber's smile was large, his teeth flashing like a shark. He was playing them off of each other, quite successfully, in fact.  
  
"I think I've been going about this the wrong way." Mulciber turned completely towards Sirius. "You will tell me what I want to know, won't you?"  
  
Hermione shook her head at Sirius, her brown eyes pleading with him to hold his tongue, to be silent. But she already knew what Mulciber was going to do. She could tell by the jovial way Mulciber was holding himself. And Hermione knew that Sirius would tell the Auror anything that he wanted to know.  
  
Mulciber turned back to Hermione and cast the Cruciatus upon her. Sirius cried in rage and horror as Hermione shuddered with pain, broke the ropes holding her, and fell out her chair. She curled into a ball. Her skin was tight, she felt like she was on fire. It reminded her so much of her time in St. Mungo's. Tears squeezed from her tightly closed eyes. She could hear Sirius shouting at Mulciber.  
  
"Stop it! I'll tell you anything. Malfoy was here. He's been here for days. Today is the first time that he's left." Sirius' was kneeling, his hands pressing against the magically electric shield that held him enclosed. Sparks flashed around his fingers, illuminating his pained face.  
  
Mulciber increased the spell. "Will he be coming back?"  
  
Hermione's hands unclenched themselves and she was able to open her tear-clouded eyes. It was decidedly odd. Hermione pushed herself up with one hand. She had heard Mulciber augment in the spell. The pain should have increased tenfold but instead she was feeling better, the pain was still intense but it was starting to fade. And as it did, Hermione noticed a weight around her wrist, looking down she was surprised to see the bracelet that Draco had given her resting there. It's green and silver metal flashing up at her. For the life of her, Hermione couldn't remember putting it on, she hadn't even known that she was wearing it. Mulciber was speaking with Sirius. Hermione hadn't even been listening to them; she had become so distracted by the jewelry.  
  
He was grasping her arm then, pulling her to her feet once again, she looked up at him in surprise. "Now, we'll just stay like this and wait, won't we?" Mulciber asked her.  
  
They didn't have to wait long.  
  
Her door unlocked itself. And quick steps came towards them. Hermione was still feeling dazed, the bracelet still heavy on her arm, the residual pain almost non-existent. She couldn't find the thoughts to issue a warning to Draco.  
  
The young man didn't look at all surprised as he entered the living room. His wand was held tightly in his hand. His gray robes flowed perfectly behind him as he approached.  
  
Mulciber held his wand at Hermione's throat, a grin plastered across his face. "Ahh, Malfoy, I'm so glad that you could-"  
  
Draco cut him off.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
He had no time to react. Hermione could feel him tense around her in surprise as the green light shot towards them both. Distantly she could hear Sirius' desperate cry, whether it was a warning or merely her name she couldn't tell. The green death passed so closely by her that goose bumps rose up along her skin. A cold draft blew against her as it collided with Mulciber's body. His arms tightened painfully around her as he died. His flesh went cold and clammy against hers as the curse forced the life from him. As instantaneous as it was it seemed to go on forever. Then time caught back up. He fell away from her, his limbs loose and malleable.  
  
She turned, eyes following his fall. Hermione had never watched anyone die before. She had never felt anyone die before. It was the most horrifying experience that she had ever gone through. Shuddering, she wrapped her arms about herself, but the chill from the passing curse wouldn't go away. Her stomach churned angrily and the strength ebbed from her legs. Hermione collapsed.  
  
Now that Mulciber was dead, his spell holding Sirius was gone. Harry's godfather sprung lightly from where he was kneeling, and caught Hermione in his arms before she could fall onto the dead man.  
  
"Hermione? Hermione, are you all right?" One arm looped around her back while his other hand was worriedly touching her face, her arms, her stomach as he confirmed that she was all right.  
  
She was to shocked to reply. 


	24. Work

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, I own nothing.  
  
AN: My apologies for taking so long in posting these chapters. It's been a hectic summer for me. I quit my job and just recently moved. I am currently unemployed and things are a bit overwhelming for me. But that's ok! I'm sure that everything will work out fine. :)   
  
I'm not even going to bother estimating when I'll have new chapters out. If you want a more accurate idea of when I'll post again check out my live journal, I generally mention how far along I am in most of my posts. The user name there is the same as here.   
  
Enjoy!

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"Hermione!" Ron's shout cut through noise of the exploding cauldrons. "Look out!"  
  
With a bob of her curly brown hair Hermione easily ducked the curse, which she had been perfectly aware of without Ron's panicked warning. Stepping quickly to the left she avoided the brilliant shot of red. Considering the color, the damage, and the fact that Goyle had always been virtually incompetent when it came to spells Hermione imagined it to be a stinging hex. A quick flick of her wrist sent her former schoolmate turned Death Eater crashing into a cauldron, which could have easily doubled as a bathtub, sending a shower of vile green liquid onto the floor in an ever-widening pool.   
  
Ron cursed and jumped backwards as the green liquid flowed towards him, melting everything in its path. "Careful, Harry." He called as the other boy was dueling with another Death Eater and was unaware.  
  
Hermione ducked behind a cauldron and readied her wand. Since Goyle was now unconscious, and Harry was keeping the still garbed Death Eater occupied, that only left one more still lurking in the dark, cauldron filled room.  
  
This raid had come about thanks to Draco. He had told Hermione only a few days before about a warehouse in the middle of muggle London. A warehouse owned by none other than his father. A place he believed they were using to brew another, much larger, batch of the very same potion that nearly ended Hermione's life only nine months ago. It was only the second raid for the trio since they had become official Aurors in early June and it was proving far more dangerous than the previous one that had involved a senile old wizard with a predilection for carnivorous plants.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated on everything that Professor Bankotsu had taught her in the previous two years at Aylesbury. She was letting her inner eye, that vague tool of Trelawney's teaching, out to explore the darkened room in a way that she couldn't. Hermione could see the countless cauldrons bubbling away. The spilled potion, not yet at the lethal state that it had been at the Underground, was thickening as it ate at the layer of varnish atop the wood-slat floors. She could see Ron leaning over Goyle, healing the fallen Death Eater of his potion burns because they were only ever going to kill one person, and he had yet to confront them.   
  
Pushing out even farther with her mind Hermione searched for the remaining enemy. He was there, she knew that he was; Hermione could feel him with her heightened sixth sense that her studies had given her. And then she saw him. Ducking out from behind a cauldron not far from her, his wand at the ready, he began to approach the unsuspecting Ron from behind.   
  
Standing quickly, Hermione turned her wand onto the Death Eater. "Stupefy!" She screamed angrily, the threat to one of her best friends making her blood boil and fuel her casting.   
  
The man slammed into another cauldron, this time tipping it completely onto its side and sending even more of the green potion streaming onto the floor.   
  
"Damn it, Hermione!" Ron shouted at her then cast a quick levitating charm on himself and Goyle letting the torrent of poison rush underneath them unhindered.   
  
"You're welcome!" She snapped back at him while her eyes searched for Harry.  
  
Their black haired friend was bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing very hard. His adversary laid unconscious not far form him. Hermione rushed to his side.  
  
"Are you all right?" She helped him straighten, her brown eyes scanning him quickly seeing cuts and abrasions all over him.  
  
"Yes," He waved her nervous hands away from him gently, "Yes, I'm just out of breath." Harry turned his attention to Ron, "You all right there?"  
  
Ron was scowling at Hermione, "Oh, I'll be fine as long as Hermione doesn't knock over any cauldrons!"  
  
Rolling her eyes Hermione responded, "Fine, next time someone is going to sneak up from behind and curse you I'll just let them do it, shall I?"  
  
Ron cast a quick glance at the prone Death Eater in question as if just now realizing what had knocked over the cauldron. "Oh, well, thanks for that."  
  
Harry set about tying up their captives while Hermione cast a quick charm on the floor, freezing the spilled potion to a hard, glossy sheen. Ron gingerly tested the floor beneath him with a quick tap of one foot before he released his levitation charm. He made a quick once over on all the Death Eaters making sure that none of them were too badly damaged.  
  
"That went rather well, don't you think?" He asked to no one in particular.  
  
"It's a good thing that we came when we did." Hermione said as she began reading a scroll that Goyle had hastily tucked away in an unused cauldron when they had first burst into the grimy room. "They would have completed the potion tonight." She inclined her head towards a far table where a pile of perfectly julienned, dried manticore skin rested. "That's the last ingredient."  
  
Ron was seeing to Harry now who had a large bleeding gash on the back of his left hand. "What do we do with the stuff now?"  
  
"Contact Mrs. Bones, she'll send a clean-up team." Harry said as he tried to not wince at Ron's not entirely gentle administrations.  
  
"You don't think she'll be angry that we came without letting anyone know what we were up to?" Ron asked.   
  
Hermione and Harry exchanged meaningful glances and didn't reply.  
  
"Bloody hell," Ron snapped, "would it kill us to go more than a month without breaking the rules?"  
  
Hermione laughed, she couldn't help it, her hand shot up quickly to stifle it. It was probably because of the rush of adrenalin that was still running wild in her veins but Hermione didn't think she had ever heard anything quite as funny. Ron was complaining about breaking the rules, surely at any moment hell was going to freeze over.

--

Amelia Bones, the head of the Ministry's Department of Law Enforcement, was very angry.  
  
"I cannot believe the three of you!" She started pacing while she yelled.  
  
Hermione studied the dirty, old tiles that lined the floor of Mrs. Bones' office. She was trying very hard not to cry. Ron and Harry both looked equally stressed; Ron's ears were bright pink and Harry's hands clenched the arms of the chair that he sat in so tightly that Hermione feared he might break them. That would be just what they needed in the current situation.  
  
Mrs. Bones had made them sit outside of her office on uncomfortable wooden benches when they first returned. She had said that she wanted to send some owls to her superiors at the Ministry apologizing for their behavior but Hermione thought that she wanted to give them time to agonize over their position. Their Auroring office was contained in the main Ministry building at Diagon Alley. Several smaller branches were set up around the country but Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been selected for London. The Death Eaters that they had brought in were in a processing room at the end of the hall. They would be questioned after ingesting a truth potion. After that they would be relocated to Azkaban.   
  
Hermione tried not to think about that. They had been to Azkaban once. Professor Mulciber had the entire class there for what he believed to be an end of year treat. As if anyone in their right mind could enjoy a place so horrible. Hermione felt a little sorry for Goyle and the others.  
  
Ever since they had returned to the office from the warehouse Aurors from all over the country had been apparating in. They all had a pretense for being there, of course, but none of their reasons were legitimate. They just wanted to see the wonder trio who had brought in three Death Eaters by themselves. They wanted to see Harry. They wanted to see the beginning of a new legend.  
  
Amelia Bones had finally kicked her door open and motioned them inside. She said nothing as they filed in; just pointed a crooked finger, which had been broken at least once and never set properly, at three chairs sitting before her paper-strewn desk. Hermione had never been in here and despite her anxiety she didn't miss the opportunity to look around. Tall windows behind the cluttered desk looked out over Diagon Alley. Several owls perches stood to the right. Pictures of wanted wizards stared at them from a bulletin board on the left hand wall. A house elf, wearing an impeccably clean pair of coveralls Hermione was pleased to note, had been trying to organize the desk.  
  
Mrs. Bones had noticed the house elf and scowled. "How many times do I have to tell you to leave my desk alone?" She snapped at the creature.  
  
"It's too messy! Can't get any work done." The little elf replied in a squeaky voice.  
  
Hermione stared at the tiny being in surprise. How long had he been free? She had never heard a house elf talk so defiantly before.  
  
"Get out." Amelia had said coldly at the elf who huffed before vanishing in a puff of smoke. She had turned on them then, her small, brown eyes narrowing angrily. "I think it's time that we got some things straight. I don't care if you are Bloody Goddamn Harry Potter." She singled Harry out. "We have rules that must be followed. You cannot just rush off and fight Death Eaters whenever you want! Do you have any idea how many people you endangered by going through with this little escapade of yours?"  
  
"Endangered?" Ron snapped to Harry's defense, his voice shaking angrily, "It we hadn't acted when we did that potion would be all over London right now!"   
  
"Oh you think so?" She leaned down so that her face was level with Ron's. "And what do you think would have happened had you gone there and were defeated? Did any of you take the time to let someone know where you were going? Was there backup? Because of you're foolhardy actions you put thousands of people at risk." She turned her back on them, went around her desk, and slouched into her chair. "I'm tempted to toss the lot of you out on your ear right this second."  
  
Hermione's head shot up, an argument already on the tip of her tongue; she wasn't being fair at all. Getting the Ministry's Aurors organized enough for a raid took time. There was loads of paper work to go through first not to mention the unnecessary amounts of red tape that hindered any attempts to take down Voldemort.  
  
Mrs. Bones waved her hand at Hermione, halting all the things that she was about to say, "I'm not sacking you." She rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand, her short brown hair was looking even more at odds with itself than was usual as if she had spent a good deal of time pulling at it recently. "The fact is that the three of you came with glowing recommendations. I have a whole stack of letters from your teachers, from former Aurors, from Albus Dumbledore himself heralding your greatness in my right desk drawer. I couldn't possibly sack the three of you."  
  
Hermione sagged with relief.   
  
As if to prove Hermione's theory about her harassment of her hair Mrs. Bones grabbed a thick handful and tugged on it absentmindedly. "And no one has brought in a Death Eater in almost a year, that's how good they've gotten at staying a step ahead of us. Then you three join up and in less than a month you bring in three." She tugged harder, "No, no, I couldn't possibly get rid of you. But the next time, send me an owl first, won't you?" The fury drained from her voice and she rubbed his forehead.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron and he shrugged at her. They weren't sure what they should say now. But there apparently wasn't anything more to say because Amelia Bones stood.  
  
"All right, get out of here!" She released her hair and pointed at the door.  
  
They certainly didn't need to be told twice.   
  
Out in the hall Hermione laughed shakily, it sounded very close to a sob, and Ron draped an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Well," He said almost cheerfully, "I don't know about the two of you but I could use a drink."   
  
They were all in agreement and soon found themselves happily ensconced in a muggle tavern that was only a block away from their flat. Hermione was rubbing her temples with thin fingers while Harry read that morning's Daily Prophet. Ron was supposed to be getting drinks but from Hermione's vantage point he seemed to be flirting with one of the pretty barmaids instead.   
  
"All it takes with him is a tight dress." Hermione muttered.  
  
Harry glanced up over the edge of his paper; Hermione had charmed the pictures still so as not to draw attention, "Mmm." He murmured noncommittally.   
  
They quite liked The Drunken Pig tavern. It was close enough to the flat that they never needed to go out of their way when feeling the need for something a bit stronger than water or pumpkin juice. It was muggle, making the possibility of running into other wizards very small. Most of the denizens of the tavern were old men that wanted to do nothing more than drink, talk of their misbegotten youths or their wives, and perhaps play a rousing game of darts. None of them were very concerned with the slightly odd trio of youngsters that came often enough to be regulars but not often enough to be a nuisance. The tavern was one low, open room paved on all sides with large, roughly hewn bricks of a dull gray color. The bar itself was old-fashioned, topped with a slab of solid mahogany that had continually been polished for the last thirty years. The wall behind the counter was covered in matching mahogany shelves that contained every muggle drink imaginable. A small kitchen through the side door provided patrons with a decent supply of fish and chips or those cold meat and lard pies that Ron loved but always turned Hermione's stomach at the mere thought.   
  
It was never really crowded, but there were always a few people hanging around, enjoying each other's company or drowning their sorrows. No one ever bothered them and the large fireplace that was always burning whether it be December or June always kept the room warm and cozy.   
  
Ron finally returned with two large tankards of beer for himself and Harry while he handed Hermione a simple gin and tonic. A slight flush colored his cheeks and he kept looking back at the bar with a wistful expression. He sighed and Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron cleared his throat and ignored her.  
  
"Anything of interest?" He asked Harry.  
  
Shaking his head Harry folded up the paper and stowed it in Hermione's old canvas bag that she was rarely without. "Not really. A few disappearance's up in Derbyshire but the Ministry has chalked that up to the fire whiskey convention that they were having."  
  
"That's not unlikely." Ron took a swig from his tankard, "They'll be finding passed out wizards in haystacks for at least a week."  
  
"It has been oddly quiet." Hermione absently twisted a curl of hair around one finger as she talked, "Not many attacks, not many disappearances. There was just tonight's plot but that was odd as well."  
  
Ron emptied his tankard with another large drink.  
  
"Honestly, Ron," Hermione admonished, "You are as bad as Hagrid sometimes!"  
  
Harry, who had hardly touched his own drink, cut in before the argument could start. "Why do you think it's odd, Hermione?"  
  
Ron held up his empty mug so that the pretty barmaid would fetch him another one.  
  
"It was too easy." Hermione sipped her drink. "We walked right in there and defeated them with hardly any problems. Shouldn't it have been harder? Shouldn't there have been more Death Eaters guarding that potion?"  
  
Ron frowned at her, "That's just like you, Hermione, getting upset when something goes well. Nothing is ever going to be good enough for you."  
  
Hermione scowled at him, "That is not what I'm saying. Think about it, up until just recently everything was moving so quickly. More and more wizards were disappearing. Muggles were being slaughtered in mass attacks. The Aurors were being over run. They were so bold as to attack the Leaky Cauldron! And now, suddenly-"  
  
"Everything has stopped." Harry finished for her.  
  
The bartender, a large elderly man with more scraggly black hair on his arms than on his head, brought Ron his drink. He smiled at Hermione, revealing the absence of his left front tooth, and handed her a plate with several large, flaky biscuits accompanied by a lump of crumbly cheddar cheese on it.  
  
"Yeh all righ' there Hermione?" He asked cheerfully.   
  
The old bartender had taken quite a liking to Hermione and like all the men in her life he seemed to feel that she never ate enough. He always seemed to have something tucked away behind the bar that he would push on her whenever the three of them came in.   
  
"Claire made 'em a few hours back. Right good cook she is." He smiled brokenly at her again. "Told me t' save some fer yeh, in case yeh came in tonight."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Robertson, that's very thoughtful of both of you." Hermione really did appreciate the gesture.  
  
He clapped a brawny hand on her shoulder and gave her a well-meaning shake that he had probably intended as a gentle pat. "Ach, girl! How many times 'ave I told yeh to call me Ben?"  
  
She smiled sheepishly and shrugged.  
  
"Hey!" A shout echoed through the low-ceilinged room. "What's a bloke got to do to get a drink around here?"   
  
Ben turned from their table, shouting back in response. "Shut yer mouth Justin Riggs, yeh'll get yer drink when I damn well feel like gettin' et." He looked back, obviously planning on continuing his talk with Hermione.  
  
"Don't bother, Ben, at this rate I'll be long dead and buried before you get here!" Justin Riggs, like Hermione, Ron, and Harry, was a regular at the tavern. He wasn't quite as old as the bartender, but both men had been friends for a very long time. In fact, Hermione was fairly sure that Mr. Riggs was married to Mr. Robertson's sister.   
  
It was a belief often backed up by the two men.  
  
"If me sister finds out that yeh've been drinkin' in me tavern again yeh'll be certain to meet yer maker!" The bar tender's voice was loud but he was smiling. He finally left their table to see to his friend.   
  
"Aww," Ron started immediately before Ben was entirely out of earshot. "I think he's sweet on- Oww!"  
  
Hermione kicked him, very hard, in the knee.   
  
"He's right though," Harry said thoughtfully through a mouthful of biscuit. "Claire is a very good cook."  
  
Ron snorted into his tankard while Hermione scowled at both of them.  
  
"Harry, I thought you, at least, would be serious." She told him petulantly as she finished her drink.  
  
He yawned in response, stretching his longs arms high above his head. "I'm too tired to be serious. We've been up for almost forty-eight hours straight, you do realize that?"  
  
"Really?" Hermione couldn't hide her honest surprise. But a quick glance at her watch confirmed what Harry had said. "Why ever are we here then when we could be at home sleeping?"  
  
"There are far more interesting things that we could be doing." Ron replied cheerfully. His red hair was almost as messy as Harry's. His eyes were brighter than normal thanks to the ale in his tankard. He was again watching the pretty barmaid. "I'm going to go get another drink."   
  
"But Ron-" Hermione called after him as he hoisted himself out of the booth and walked away. "He didn't finish this one." Hermione nodded at the nearly full tankard that Ron had abandoned.   
  
Harry was rubbing his eyes sleepily; his glasses were sitting on his faded blue jean lap. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about Ron's beer. Then something clicked in Hermione's mind.  
  
"Oh!" She looked over her shoulder at Ron who was leaning against the bar and beaming widely at the pert young woman who seemed very interested in his attentions. "He's not coming home with us, is he?"  
  
Harry laughed, "No, I don't think so."  
  
Hermione smiled to as she watched Ron and the girl. It was cute, watching one of her best friends flirt, watching him lean closer to the pretty blonde while whispering something in her ear. And the way she looked up at him, blue eyes warm and inviting. The last person to look at Hermione like that was-  
  
"Hermione?" Harry gasped as she suddenly reached forward and took up Ron's tankard.   
  
She smiled ruefully, mirthlessly, and then downed it in one long gulp that would have made beer gardens all over Germany cheer in admiration. Hermione set it down with a gasp, immediately feeling woozy.  
  
"Hermione," Harry was scolding, "You know that you can't handle ale."  
  
"Oh shut up, Harry." She said bitterly while trying to drive images of lost loves out of her mind, it was stupid really, that after so many months her relationship with Daniel would suddenly rise like a specter out of the tomb of her mind to haunt her.  
  
Harry stood, attempting to straighten his red and gold sweater as he did so, and pulled Hermione up gently after him. She frowned at him but allowed herself to be carefully manhandled.   
  
Hermione was already feeling light-headed.  
  
"What are we doing, Harry?"   
  
"Going home before you lose the ability to walk." Harry pulled her backpack onto his shoulder and began to guide her through the pub.  
  
Hermione stopped short indignation pinking on her cheeks. "I have never, ever-"  
  
Harry mused aloud, "That's right, that was Ron, wasn't it?"  
  
Hermione huffed angrily and pushed past him. Ignoring him as he followed after her laughing the entire time at her righteous anger.   
  
That didn't last very long.  
  
Not half a block to the flat Hermione started to get dizzy. Her face was far too warm and she probably would have pulled off her fuzzy blue sweater had Harry not gently reminded her that she was not currently wearing a shirt underneath it.   
  
Harry was right, of course; she had known it the moment that he mentioned it in the bar. Beer and Hermione didn't mix well. Oh, a small glass of good liquor from time to time could help calm her nerves and ease her inhibitions but once plain old beer was thrown into the mix Hermione was immediately out of her element, and her sobriety. Overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, Hermione sat down on the curb.  
  
"C'mon, Hermione," Harry pulled her easily to her feet; he was always so much stronger than she expected, and helped her start walking. "We're almost home."  
  
"It's so pretty out, Harry." She told him, her eyes focused upwards on the sky where the dull clouds of a late evening shower had finally dispersed letting the stars shine down in abundance, as abundant as they ever could be in London, at least.  
  
"Yes, yes," He said dismissively, "very nice."  
  
"We never appreciate it." Hermione murmured wistfully, choosing not to hear his disinterest. "This could be the last time that we see a sky like this."  
  
"Hermione," He said suddenly very serious, "If you've changed your mind, if you don't want to-"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, but wished that she hadn't as her stomach rolled with them. "H...Harry," it took her a moment to fight down the nausea. "Don't go sounding like Sirius on me. You know I hate that."  
  
They reached the front steps of their building.  
  
"He makes me so angry, you know?" Hermione knew that she was on the verge of babbling but she really just couldn't help it. The world spun out of control every time she closed her eyes and the only thing that seemed to stop the tide of sickness that wanted to well up in her was to keep a constant stream of speech going. ''I just can't figure him, you know? Back in our sixth year he was so sweet to me. I think I had a bit of a crush on him then, did you know that?"  
  
Harry nodded solemnly although he looked like he would rather be talking with Snape about the good old days than having this conversation with Hermione.   
  
"But now, now he is such a bloody wanker!" Hermione squeezed both her hands together in front of her as if imagining them around Sirius' neck.   
  
"Hermione!" Harry struggled with the door handle. "Hermione, maybe you should have a talk with Sirius. His reason," Harry paused for a moment as if coming to a decision, "may not be what you think."  
  
They made their way slowly up the stairs; Hermione stumbled on the top step and almost sent them both crashing down the stairs. Harry never once complained, only steadied her as he casually undid the wards that protected their flat. He helped Hermione into her room where she flopped cheerfully onto her bed. Hermione kicked off her shoes as an afterthought and curled up onto her side. Her mouth was dry but Harry had already gone to fetch a glass of water. The world spun dizzily around her every time that she closed her eyes but her bed was so soft and she was so very tired.  
  
Harry returned and helped her sit up. He forced a cool glass into her hands. It reminded her of the time in the hospital. Everyone had been so concerned, so worried. They had all taken such good care of her. Even Sirius, who had no reason to, but then the older man seemed to like being a contradiction unto himself.  
  
Hermione lay back down. Harry pulled up her blanket, tucking her in like her father use to.  
  
"I think he broke my heart." Hermione whispered drunkenly, her voice rising on an unexpected giggle at the end.  
  
Harry stopped, his hand on the doorframe. "Who did?"   
  
Hermione laughed again, her mind tired, drunk, and beyond rational thought. She turned her face into her pillow, an irrational urge to cry overcoming her. "I don't know."

--

"You look awful, Granger."   
  
Hermione tightened her hands on the railing that she was leaning against and scowled. "Thank you, Malfoy, I appreciate that."  
  
He chuckled easily. He leaned back against the fence; his elbows propped along its strong wrought-iron support behind, and turned his head up towards the overcast sky. "If I didn't know you better, I would think that you were hung-over."   
  
"You think that you know me so well?" Hermione asked sourly for her head had been pounding all morning.   
  
Over two hundred books in her little personal library and not a single one that had a cure for morning afters. It certainly didn't seem fair.  
  
"My father is furious about the warehouse." Draco changed the subject. He smoothed back his blonde hair with one hand while smirking charmingly at a passing muggle. "Apparated to my flat at two in the morning, wanted to know if I had spoken to anyone."  
  
Hermione fought the urge to turn towards him; they weren't supposed to look at each other. "Is he suspecting you already?"  
  
"I convinced him that it was Goyle's fault, he is a very good scape-goat."  
  
"I always wandered why you hung around with those two."  
  
"My attractiveness was also magnified ten-fold by being with them. Who wouldn't rather look at me?"   
  
Hermione swallowed a laugh. She watched the dark water of the Thames move swiftly past them as she struggled to find the right words for what she wanted to say. "You will," Hermione bit her lip, "You will get out before they figure out your true loyalties. Won't you?"  
  
He straightened slowly, every move that he made was purposely casual, and turned so that he could watch the water as well. "I have no intention of dying, Hermione."   
  
"No one ever does."  
  
"Avery and Nott are in Wales."  
  
Hermione turned her head ever so slightly towards him, enough to see his profile, "Do you know why?"  
  
"Not a clue. The whole society has gotten very hush-hush. There a couple of random attacks planned. I don't know who's involved but the plan is to hit several house in one neighborhood out in Edinburgh. Here are the addresses." Draco discretely dropped a crumpled piece of paper onto the ground, which Hermione immediately covered with her foot.   
  
"Is that all?" Hermione muttered, "It seems like thing are dying down."  
  
"I know. I don't like it." Draco ran a hand through his hair again, disrupting it.   
  
The sun broke through the clouds for a moment, dousing them with warm summer heat. Hermione bowed her head, the ends of the violet ribbon that she had used to tie up her hair flutter against her bare neck.   
  
"Is he scared of us; of Harry?"   
  
Draco stood very still, watching the boats below, "I think so. The Dark Lord isn't a fool. He's been trying to kill Potter for years with no success. It's really his only failure. Voldemort has beaten time and death, it must drive him mad that he's had such a hard time with Dumbledore's golden boy." He was smirking. "Don't tell him that I said that, his head is swelled enough already."  
  
Hermione laughed even though she knew that she shouldn't. "You are one to talk!"  
  
He turned towards her, widely grinning, their pretense of being sneaky forgotten. But a sudden shout made him turned abruptly from her. A girl was quickly making her away across a busy street, bright red hair that had recently been cropped bobbed about her shoulders as she dodged automobiles, all the while calling Hermione's name.  
  
"Ginny." Hermione murmured.  
  
Draco was already walking away, "The Cheering Charm is actually an amazing curative when one has had to many drinks." He called lightly over his shoulder. He kept his head down as he disappeared into the Underground and was gone before Ginny had even realized that he was there.   
  
Before her friend could reach her, Hermione bent down and retrieved the wadded up piece of parchment that Draco had dropped before turning to the younger girl that had finally made it safely across the street.  
  
"Hermione!' Ginny said with a bright smile, "What are you doing here? All by yourself to?"  
  
Hermione returned the smile, "Yes, all by myself." She reaffirmed.  
  
"But I thought that Harry and Ron-" Ginny went quiet, unsure of whether alluding to the fact that Harry and Ron made a point of babysitting their friend was a good idea or not.  
  
"Oh," Hermione said reassuringly, she had given up being bothered by her friends' over-protectiveness, "I am sure they'll be along directly."   
  
It was true that Harry and Ron rarely left her alone. They weren't quite as overbearing about it as they use to be though. They had developed a bit of discretion over the past few months, especially when she had been involved with Daniel. And ever since the attack, they had become a bit more trusting of Draco, even going so far as letting her leave the flat by herself to go meet him. Although Hermione was perfectly aware that they trailed her almost the entire way, stopping only a block before Draco's designated meeting place where they seemed to psychologically pass off the duty of protecting her to Draco who they now appeared to believe capable of the job.  
  
Not for the last time, Hermione wondered just what had occurred between the three boys.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you!" Ginny grasped Hermione's hands in her own and squeezed them excitedly. "I wanted to ask you a favor." Ginny was bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, her black, pleated skirt shifting revealingly against her pale legs.  
  
"W-what is it?" Hermione asked nervously, Ginny's giddiness making her uncomfortable.  
  
"Hermione, will you be in my wedding?" Her large blue eyes, so much like Ron's, were pleading even though she knew that Hermione would never say no.  
  
"You are getting married?" Hermione gasped.   
  
Ginny had been seeing Seamus Finnegan for almost a year now, really ever since her fling with Harry the summer before. Hermione had no idea that things were that serious between them. Ginny was two years younger than her and Hermione wouldn't have even thought that Ginny might be ready for marriage, she certainly wasn't. Ginny had always been a bit flighty when it came to relationships and not easily tied to one person. But Seamus had changed that about her.   
  
Seamus was a very stable partner. He had moved back to Ireland after Hogwarts where he had gone into the family business. As it turned out, though they had never known during school, Seamus' mother's family was famous for their cauldrons and he had happily taken up the reins of the business when his grandfather retired. In the few instances that Hermione had seen Seamus since school, usually accompanying Ginny somewhere wearing a blissfully happy smile as if the young redhead on his arm was best thing that had ever happened to him, he had been doing very well. The cauldron business was booming and his family, while never reaching the financial status of the Malfoy's (Draco liked to keep tabs), was making a very tidy profit.  
  
Mrs. Weasley adored Seamus. He was handsome, successful, and keeping her only daughter in the country. After things ended badly with Harry, there had been rumors that Ginny was considering furthering her studies in India. She had taken a liking to Astronomy and there was a very good program being run in New Dehli that Professor Sinistra had recommended she look into.  
  
Hermione had thought it a marvelous idea, going to India for further learning, but the rest of the Weasley clan had not been nearly so enthusiastic. Hermione often found herself getting annoyed when Harry and Ron were acting like two overprotective siblings, so she could hardly imagine what it must be like for Ginny who had six of them. Even Bill and Charlie, who had gone off themselves seeking adventure on foreign soil, wanted Ginny to stay at home. But Ginny just ignored her brothers and mother. Arthur Weasley was oddly quiet about the whole affair, leading Hermione to believe that he secretly supported Ginny's ambitions, but was too frightened of Molly Weasley to speak out. Ginny had been all set to leave, her bags were packed, registration forms had been filled out for the foreign school, and then Seamus happened.  
  
Hermione liked to think of it as an event. So many things about Ginny changed after meeting Seamus that Hermione could never think of it as a simple encounter. It was something revolutionary and earth shattering. Because after one simple tea together, Hermione's mother would have approved, everything that Ginny wanted changed. Hermione had never known anyone to have an epiphany, but Ginny certainly had. All it took was one gentle touch of fingers to the back of her hand and the sparkle in his eyes. Then everything in Ginny seemed to realign so that her plans for the future now included Seamus.  
  
No one ever mentioned India after that.  
  
It intrigued Hermione, the change that Seamus brought in Ginny; it was something that she had never experienced. Hermione had never wanted to transform herself for someone; she had never wanted to give up her dreams. No matter how happy she had been with Daniel, Hermione hadn't loved him, not like that. Never once, for a single moment that she spent with him, had Hermione wanted to change her life for him. At times, it made her just a little bit jealous, that Ginny had something that she didn't seem capable of having.  
  
"Hermione? Are you even listening to me?"   
  
She hadn't been so she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Ginny, my mind was wandering."  
  
Ginny walked the tree lined-path with Hermione, her arm linked with the other girl's. "I know that it seems a little sudden, but we have been together for almost a year." She looked out towards the water a little wistfully. "You know, I hadn't even thought about marriage, isn't that funny?"  
  
"Do you want to get married?"   
  
Stopping short, Ginny turned fully towards Hermione. "Do I want to? Of course I want to! That's a silly question, Hermione." A slight flush, the trademark of the fabled Weasley temper, colored her cheeks.  
  
Hermione balked. ''I hadn't meant anything by it, Ginny. I'm very happy for you, Seamus is wonderful."  
  
Properly appeased, Ginny pulled Hermione over to a low stone bench. "He is, isn't he? We're going to have the wedding in September. Apparently there is an old church near his home that every Finnegan has gotten married in."  
  
"So soon?" That was only a month away. Hermione was happy for Ginny, of course she was, but a part of her was a little melancholy towards the whole affair.  
  
"You still haven't answered my question," Ginny nudged Hermione with her knee.  
  
Hermione blinked brown eyes at her friend. "Question?"  
  
Ginny sighed, sounding very much like Molly Weasley, and reminded Hermione patiently, "Will you be in my wedding? One of my bridesmaids?"  
  
"You even have to ask? Of course I will, Ginny."   
  
Ginny sighed in relief and sagged against the bench as if she had actually thought for a moment that Hermione might say no. She fiddled with a button on her light blue blouse absently while she talked. "I know that you still get tired really easily so I won't ask you to do a whole lot-"  
  
Hermione broke in feeling slightly exasperated, "Really, Ginny, I feel fine."  
  
Ginny just shook her head and ignored her. "All I'll need you to do is get into contact with a few people, spread the word about the wedding."  
  
"Aren't you going to send out invitations? That isn't just a muggle tradition, is it?"  
  
"Oh no, there will be invitations too. There are just a few people that need to know before they get an invitation."  
  
Hermione really had no idea what Ginny was talking about. But a sudden familiar pull distracted her. She turned to look over her shoulder and there waiting to cross the street were Harry and Ron. The latter waved cheerfully at her when she caught his eye.   
  
"There's Harry and Ron." Hermione commented.  
  
Ginny stood up quickly. "Exactly, I'm so glad that you understand."  
  
Hermione looked at Ginny, "Wait, you want me to tell Harry and Ron that you're getting married?"  
  
Ginny smiled widely, pretty white teeth, which would have made Hermione's parents proud, catching the muted sunlight. "It's your only bridesmaid duty. You should see the things I'm going to have Orla and Lisa do."  
  
"B...but Ginny, why can't you tell them?"   
  
Ginny waved one hand dismissively, "Oh you know how Ron gets and things with Harry are still-" She thought for a moment, "let's just say that they're still strained, all right?"  
  
Hermione nodded mutely.  
  
"Oh, so you agree?" Before Hermione could argue Ginny kissed her cheek. "Thank you so much, Hermione!" And then she made a quick retreat to the wizard vendor near them who had a small muggle-concealment charm up on his pumpkin juice cart and disapparated with a pop that no muggle would hear.  
  
"But Ginny-" Hermione grumbled as her friend disappeared.   
  
"Hey Hermione," Ron collapsed onto the bench next to her, his hand tousling her hair affectionately.   
  
"Stop that, Ron!' Hermione pushed his hand away.  
  
"Wasn't that Ginny?" Harry stood in front of them, hands in his pockets, eyes on the cart.  
  
"Yeah," Ron agreed, "Not very sisterly of her to take off like that. She still avoiding you then, Harry?"   
  
Harry made a face but didn't reply.   
  
Ron threaded his fingers back behind his head, extended his long legs in front of him, and slid farther back onto the bench. "So what did she have to say?" 


	25. Traitors

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I own nothing.  
  
AN: Again, sorry for the delay, hopefully the next set will be out sooner. Please Read & Review!

--

Hermione's legs were folded underneath her. Her hand was tight on her own wrist as she forced the bracelet there to stay in her mind. Sirius knelt with her, his arms tight around her, his eyes searching her face. Draco stood just a step in the foyer, his eyes watchful of Mulciber. The only sound in the entire flat was the dull thump-thump of the dead Auror's wand as it rolled away from his limp fingers.  
  
Absently, Hermione noticed that she appeared to have lost one of her shoes.  
  
Draco took a cautious step into the living room. "Hermione?" He asked his eyes never leaving the body on the floor.  
  
Sirius began to puff like an angry animal, his hackles rising. "What the hell," He snarled over Hermione's head, "did you think you were doing?"  
  
"I do believe," Draco replied while watching the dead man as if daring him to move, "that I was saving your lives."  
  
Sirius stood up with Hermione cradled bonelessly in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. "You could have killed her." His voice was low and seething. Dangerous.  
  
Draco ignored him. Instead he nudged the body with the black tip of his shoe. The body moved only slightly and then lay still. Satisfied he looked at them. "Hermione," He asked, "are you all right?" He took a step towards them with one handed raised as if to touch her.  
  
Hermione just couldn't find her voice.  
  
Sirius made a sound like a growl that reverberated through him. He pulled her closer to him, his fingers cutting unknowingly into her arms. "You could have killed her." He repeated angrily.  
  
Draco's eyes were cold. The deep gray contained an iciness that Hermione hadn't seen in years. "I have very good aim." He replied mildly, his tone belying the chill in his gaze.  
  
"That's all you-" Sirius began furiously but Hermione stirred.   
  
She murmured, "Put me down, Sirius." The pain from his grip had finally brought her out of her stupor.  
  
"Hermione-" He began worriedly as he released the younger girl, obviously against his better judgment.  
  
"Are you all right?" Draco asked her yet again. He would not have faith in her physical well being until she confirmed it.  
  
Was she all right?  
  
Hermione wasn't sure. She was alive. Everyone that was important to her was alive, and that was what mattered, wasn't it? She tiredly pushed back her messy hair. Her muscles were still quaking from the after-effects of the Cruciatus. She felt dizzy and her face was smarting from the blows that she had received. The adrenalin running rampant through her body had yet to ease and a fine thread of panicked terror was still coiled in her belly. Maybe she wasn't all right after all.  
  
So she lied.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
And they all knew.  
  
The three of them stood there, not looking at each other. Blood was oozing from a nasty gash above Sirius' right eye. Hermione wasn't sure when he had gotten it, maybe he had knocked his head into the couch while suffering convulsions from the Cruciatus? The blood dripped from his eyebrow to the curve of his cheek. It would need tending to but Hermione couldn't quite remember where she had left her wand. Mulicer had taken it from her. He had disarmed her in the exact same way that she would have disarmed him. They were both trained Aurors after all.   
  
Hermione gasped as realization sunk in. "Oh, but Draco," Hermione felt decidedly sick, "You've killed an Auror."   
  
There was no coming back from that crime. There was no absolution.  
  
Draco, however, was unconcerned. "It's no loss, I assure you."  
  
Sirius didn't argue with him.  
  
But Hermione knew better, he was an Auror, he had been their teacher. Because of her he was dead. "You shouldn't have killed him, Draco."  
  
Draco began to smooth out a wrinkle that had developed in the sleeve of his robe. Distractedly he asked her, "What was he looking for?"  
  
Hermione frowned at him; didn't it bother him at all that he had just killed a man? "He was looking for-" She paused, remembering how strange she had thought it, "you. He was looking for you."  
  
"You?" Sirius was surprised.  
  
Draco nodded as if he had expected that answer. "Don't you find that odd?"  
  
Hermione tugged compulsively at the almost fraying hem of her sweater. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
Draco sighed and kneeled next to the body. "I had to kill this man because he would have killed you." He grasped Mulciber's arm and roughly pushed up the sleeve revealing an angry, dark mark on his upper forearm. "I had to kill this man because his true allegiance is not with the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Sirius cursed loudly.  
  
Hermione felt suddenly weak and she sat on the edge of the old, rose sofa that Mrs. Weasley had given them. She bowed her head, brown hair shrouded her face as she took deep, calming breaths. Hermione clasped her shaking hands together between her knees in the hopes of stilling their tremors before Sirius or Draco noticed.  
  
Sirius seemed more than willing to chastise Draco since Hermione was not. "That was very convient for you, wasn't? Lucky for you that the man you just killed just happened to be a Death Eater, wouldn't you say?"   
  
Draco shrugged, "I didn't make him what he was."  
  
The two men stood only feet from each other.   
  
"What would you have done, if he hadn't been one of Voldemort's dogs?" Sirius spat out cruelly, knowing that the reference stung at Draco's own guilt at being a Death Eater. "Would it have been so easy for you to kill him then?"  
  
"Of course, it would have been just as easy." He ran a hand through his unusally messy hair, slicking it back. "Wouldn't you kill for her?"  
  
"I don't want anyone killing for me." Hermione choked out angrily her head rising back up to glare at both of them. She stood shakily, the urge to yell, to throw things, to break down into tears and collapse on her bed was overwhelming.   
  
The telephone rang.  
  
It was surreal, the faded, off-white plastic receiver shivering in it's cradle.   
  
They stared at it silently, as if not believing that such an ordinary muggle device belonged in the same room as the dead man. And then Hermione understood, then she knew what it meant. Hermione shot across the room before Sirius or Draco could react. How had she forgotten? How had she not realized sooner. Of course they would know that something had happened.   
  
"Everything's fine," was the first thing out of her mouth once the telly was at her ear. It wasn't the most inconspicuous thing to say but Hermione was not quite in her right mind.  
  
"Are you all right? What's happened?"   
  
It was Harry's voice, sharp with worry. Hermione could hear Ron in the distance. He was shouting unintelligible words to Harry. Hermione sagged with the phone in hand.  
  
"I'm fine." She couldn't bring herself to look at Sirius or Draco. "I'm fine."  
  
Sirius took a step towards her, "Hermione, who is that?"   
  
"My mother." Hermione tried to laugh, "funny timing, don't you think?"  
  
Harry was breathing hard in her ear, obviously trying to calm himself. "No, Ron, she says that she's fine." Harry's voice was distant.  
  
"I'm really sorry," Hermione whispered, "I hadn't meant to worry you."  
  
Ron's voice replaced Harry's, surprisingly he sounded calmer than Harry. "Do we need to come?"   
  
Hermione shook her head without meaning to. "No, no, don't come. Now wouldn't be a good time."  
  
"Someone was hurting you." His voice was calm and cold, reminding Hermione of Draco's right after he had cast Avada Kedavra.   
  
It made her wonder briefly what secrets Harry and Ron kept from her.  
  
"It's been taken care of." Hermione bit her lip. "Draco took care of it."  
  
Ron was very quiet. "Well," he said finally, "he is rather adept at solving problems like that."  
  
"So it would seem."   
  
"Are you sure that you're fine? If we need to come back-"  
  
"No," Hermione cut him off sharply not caring what Sirius and Draco thought. "No, there's too much at stake, it would have been for nothing if you come." Hermione closed her eyes, "please, I can't do this again."  
  
"All right, all right." Ron soothed, "But be more careful, Hermione, please, promise you'll be more careful."   
  
Hermione bowed her head. "I promise, and you too."  
  
"Yeah." Then the line went dead.  
  
Hermione sagged, the phone slipping from her hand.   
  
"Who was that?" Sirius asked again.  
  
"I already told you-" Hermione looked at him but couldn't meet his eyes.  
  
"Don't lie to me," His voice was pained, hurt. "I thought we were past that."  
  
Hermione got off the sofa her knees shaking under her weight. The fear was fading in her leaving an empty place that no other emotion seemed to want to fill. She wasn't relieved for there was nothing to be relieved about. There was a dead man on her living room floor. Her two best friends were pretending to be dead while they hunted Voldemort. And the man that she might very well love was looking at her as if he didn't know her at all.   
  
"Hermione," Those dark eyes of his flashed, "Who was on the phone?"  
  
She did something highly undignified then. Something that she liked to think was only appropriate if one was a romance novel heroine.   
  
Hermione fainted.  
  
Sirius was with her when she woke up again. Hermione could tell that several hours had past while she slept. The only light coming through her window was from a sliver of moon that spent more time behind clouds than not. She was tucked snugly under her comforter, her bushy hair spread haphazardly across her pillow in a brown, fuzzy halo. Sirius was sitting in a chair next to her bed, one elbow was propped up on her pillow, his face very close as he watched her.  
  
Hermione went to sit up but one of his hands settled at the base of her neck and across her right collar bone. The hand applied just enough preassure to tell her that he would really prefer her to stay where she was and he wasn't above using force to have his way.   
  
"How are you feeling?" He asked gently then added, "The truth."  
  
Hermione blinked up at him as she analyzed how she was feeling. "To be honest, I feel like hell. Everything hurts, I'm tired, and I did just see a very good friend of mine kill someone not to long ago." She paused for a moment as something occurred to her, "But you know, I don't feel as bad as I think I should."   
  
Sirius frowned, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"I've never been under the Cruciatus curse before. But I've studied it. The first time is supposed to be the worst. I should be feeling the aftereffects for a few days but the tremors have already stopped. I should be feeling much worse. It's decidedly odd."  
  
He snorted. "That's just like you, Hermione, upset that something didn't follow what the book said."  
  
She shook her head, "No, it's not that, really-" Hermione meant to continue but Sirius just shook his head at her.  
  
"It's not really that important, is it?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. She listened to Sirius breathe. It was a remarkably soothing sound. Absently, Hermione wondered how she had never noticed before. The hand on her chest was still there only now instead of holding her down the touch was light and soothing. His fingertips were near the hollow of her throat, his thumb was tracing her collar bone, and she could feel him shift closer to her. His breath was now brushing against her cheek, her lips; he was going to kiss her.   
  
But Hermione wasn't ready. Not for whatever this was with Sirius. Not ready to answer his silent question. Hermione couldn't even face her own feelings. So Hermione said the one thing that would push him away the fastest.  
  
"Where's Draco?"  
  
Sure enough, Sirius stiffened, his hand stilled, and he pulled back from her. As his hand slipped away from her throat, Hermione sat up. Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest and slouched back in his chair. For a moment he looked like a sulking child.  
  
"He left to go take care of the body."  
  
"What will he do with it?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I didn't ask. I assume that Death Eaters are skilled at getting rid of evidence." Sirius looked away from her. "He left something for you."  
  
Hermione sat up. She pulled her knees tp her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She was still wearing her old ratty sweater and faded jeans but Sirius had removed her socks and remaining shoe. "What did he leave?"  
  
"Books. Nasty looking ones." Sirius stared at a place just over her shoulder. "I think one is covered in skin, probably human. Most of them are in Latin."  
  
"You noticed-"  
  
"I know Latin." Sirius cut her off. "Despite what Remus might have told you, I was a good student."   
  
Hermione pushed herself to the edge of the bed. Her toes just grazed the hard floor below. "I never said that you weren't-"  
  
"But you'd rather have his help than mine." Sirius said sourly.  
  
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sirius. I must have missed your overwhelming show of support somehow." She smoothed her hand along the blanket. "I don't know how it ever could have gotten by me."  
  
"Don't patronize me."   
  
Hermione laughed at him, "Then stop acting like a put-out teenager."  
  
He changed the subject, "Who called you?"  
  
Hermione looked at the floor appropriately apologetic.  
  
"Would it always be like this with you?"   
  
She looked up at him. Sirius' eyes were black stones in the darkness, taking in all light and reflecting none.   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
Sirius sat forward, elbows on his knees, his face coming so close to hers that Hermione subconsciously leaned backwards. "Will you always lie to me? Is it something that you can't help? Did you lie to Harry and Ron?"   
  
Hermione didn't miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he said their names. She shook her head, "No, I didn't lie to Harry and Ron. They knew almost all of my secrets."  
  
"Not all of them?"  
  
Hermione allowed a faint smile to grace her face, "Well, a girl has to keep some things all to herself."  
  
He was smiling now too. It was an expression that she loved, a look that Hermione remembered being graced with when she was in her sixth year, a look that had given her butterflies on more than one occasion. It had been so long since she had seen it that Hermione had believed it lost forever. Hermione thought it amazing how quickly the mood could turn when it was just the two of them. Weren't they just fighting? Did their passions run so high?  
  
"Like a crush on her best friend?" Sirius asked her with a smile and a chuckle but there was a seriousness behind it that did not go unnoticed.  
  
Hermione decided then that he deserved as much truth as she could possibly give him. "More like a crush on his God-father."  
  
Sirius stopped laughing. He was momentarilly speachless. "Y-you did?"  
  
With a rueful smile Hermione nodded. She had already said more than she ought to but as her father always said, 'in for a penny in for a pound'. "Oh yes, it was ridiculous, really. Just like that insane infatuation with Lockhart that I had in my second year."  
  
"Gilderoy?"   
  
Hermione ignored Sirius and continued. "But unlike him you were everything that you seemed to be. You were brave, caring, and smart. You listened to me like what I said really mattered. You looked at me as if you saw more there than there was, as if you saw something that no one else could see, and it was something that you liked." Hermione broke off the stream of words. She really had said more than she should have. Her eyes dropped to the ground and a blush colored her cheeks.  
  
Sirius' hands cupped her face. He tilted her head up to meet his eye. He was smiling at her as if she was the only woman in the world, as if he would drink her up like water if he could. Her pulse began to quicken.  
  
"You're wrong." He whispered then kissed her chastily on her forehead. "I never saw something that wasn't there." 


	26. Useless Death

Author Notes: Bet you guys never thought I was going to update again. I am sorry about the delay but I did move in August and it has been quite the struggle to get all my ducks in a row as far as my life is concerned. The following two chapters are easily the most difficult ones that I've had to write. We're talking some severe writer's block here.

* * *

Hermione had hoped that the tradition of hateful bridesmaids dresses was one found only in muggle culture. 

She was wrong.

The robe was lime green, form fitting, and had such extreme bouts of fluffy, blue lace that Hermione was afraid that Hagrid might try to adopt her as a new pet. She certainly looked inhuman. But then, the robes seemed to be going over quite well with Ginny's other bridesmaids. Pavarti and Padma Patil were preening cheerfully in the full-length mirrors in the special back parlor of Madame Malkin's shop. Orla Quirke and Eleanor Branstone could hardly contain their excited giggles. While Ginny, queen of the party, sat regally in a high-backed chair with a pleased smile on her face.

"Aren't they perfect?" She asked. "Don't you love them?"

"Yes!" Was the almost unanimous squeal.

Hermione managed a strained smile. This was for Ginny and it was only one day, after all, Hermione could handle the bad-joke of a robe. Although all her friends would be there and there was no way that Fred and George would ever let her live it down. Not to mention the ribbing that her flat-mates would give her.

"Oh no," Hermione groaned.

"Dress too tight?" Pavarti asked with a too-nice smile. "We just had our fittings a few days ago, you couldn't have gained weight?"

Hermione gritted her teeth and repeated the mantra that had been playing in her mind for the last couple of months, 'for Ginny, for Ginny', and forced a smile. "Nothing that serious, Pavarti, but I'm glad that you're so concerned. I've just remembered that Ron and Harry are going to meet me here any minute."

Hermione pulled out her wand and impatiently magicked open the pearly, green buttons that ran down her back. Ginny's smile disappeared.

"You don't want them to see the robe?" There was a tremulous tone to her voice.

"Oh no, Ginny, the robes are-" Hermione tried to think of something positive to say, "They are really green and lacey."

The almost-wedded Ginny was a far more emotional creature than the Ginny that Hermione was good friends with and great tears started to form in the redhead's eyes. Orla and Eleanor both cooed like a pair of misbegotten doves before descending on the bride-to-be. Pavarti and Padma sent identically scolding glares at Hermione.

"No, Ginny, please don't cry." Hermione swallowed her morals, "I really like them. I just don't want to ruin the surprise for Harry and Ron." She came forward and took Ginny's hands in her own ignoring Orla and Eleanor. "You made a very good choice, Ginny, everyone loves them."

Ginny sniffed, "You're just saying that-"

"Oh no," Hermione lied quickly, "No, they are really, really swell."

Ginny threw her arms around the older girl and hugged her tightly. A sea of red hair blinded Hermione's vision as she was knocked a step backwards. It was the first time that Hermione realized that Ginny had lost weight. The girl was frail.

"Ginny," Hermione whispered, "Are you all right?"

Ginny nodded into her shoulder. "This is all just-" Her voice broke, "harder than I thought it would be."

Hermione squeezed her friend despite the crinkling sound of too-firm lace wrinkling. "Ginny, if you don't want to get married-"

"Not get married?" Orla overheard.

"Hermione, what are you telling her?" Padma demanded angrily, her dark hair shaking angrily around her face.

"It's fine," Ginny withdrew from Hermione, "Of course I'm getting married. Seamus is wonderful. He's everything that I want." She glanced back at Hermione and said in a bit lower voice, "Really; he is."

Hermione, feeling oddly defeated, nodded. There wasn't any good rationale for why she would want Ginny to not get married. But for some reason, there was a feeling that kept hoping that something, anything would happen to postpone the wedding. She slipped the robe off her shoulders before handing it to the shop attendant that was waiting on them. Ginny, Padma, Pavarti, Orla, and Eleanor were all standing together with bright faces and wide smiles.

Hermione felt very old and very alone.

But Harry and Ron had just arrived. Hermione pulled her favorite blue robe over her head and attempted to smooth her wild hair back into a ponytail. She waved at Ginny and the other girls, they hardly noticed, before she left the back parlor and greeted her friends.

Ron was rifling through a rack of robes emblazoned with the Canons' insignia. His red hair was to a length that his mother almost found improper. A pair of young witches were flirting not so subtlety with him from a rack away. The tiniest hint of a blush colored his cheeks but he was also grinning cockily.

Hermione tutted from behind him, he was so engrossed that he hadn't seen her coming, "Too young for you, Ron."

"How do you know?"

Hermione nodded at the robes in the girls' hands. "They are buying robes for Hogwarts."

Ron frowned at that. Granted, he and Hermione weren't all that far from their seventh year at Hogwarts but Hermione wasn't the only one feeling old that morning. "All right, let's go. Harry is waiting for us across the street at Floreans'."

Hermione fell into step with Ron as they left Madame Malkin's. The road was thick with all sorts of wizards enjoying the summer heat. It would soon be over.

"Is he still avoiding Ginny, then?" Hermione asked even though she knew the answer.

Ron shrugged, his sister always being a sticky subject for him. "Ginny getting married was a bit of a shock to all of us, wasn't it?"

Hermione made a face but didn't reply.

Ron nodded, "That's what I thought."

He casually held onto her elbow as they crossed the street. Hermione looked at him but didn't think it worth the argument that would ensue if she tried to explain that she did not, in fact, need help crossing the street. As Ron got older, a strangely chivalrous side had starting showing itself.

They headed towards Harry, who was sitting at an outside table enjoying a

large pumpkin and banana sundae in what must have been his oldest pair of jeans.

"So how is it, anyway?" Ron asked her as he pulled out a wrought-iron chair at Harry's table.

"How is what?" Hermione asked as she dropped her backpack, she would

never carry a purse, into an unoccupied seat before sitting herself.

"The robe," Harry said between bites, "How is the bridesmaid robe?"

Hermione flushed, how did Harry and Ron always know to ask the

questions that she least wanted to answer. "It is real nice." She tried to lie.

"That bad, is it?" Ron asked, "Well, Ginny never did have the best taste."

Harry pushed the rest of his sundae towards Hermione. "I remember a few years ago she gave me this jumper for my birthday. It was puce with black stripes. I hadn't even known that they made clothes that color."

Ron waved at Florean to get the older man's attention. "I remember that jumper, you wore it to a Canon's game. Didn't we bump into Professor Nettles there?"

Hermione swirled the spoon around the almost empty bowl. That Quidditch game had been one of the last times that Harry and Ginny had been happy, together.

"That was a good day." Harry mused aloud.

On some level, Hermione was certain that Harry had always expected to be with Ginny again. He was taking her upcoming nuptials harder than Hermione had expected. Harry had been doing a lot of reminiscing since Hermione had broken the news about Ginny and Seamus.

"The robes are really awful." Hermione groaned suddenly, "I don't know what she is thinking. But then, everyone else seems to like them, maybe it is just me?"

Ron was going to reply but an owl landed roughly on their table. Hermione was so startled that she knocked the ice cream bowl to the ground. The owl was dark brown and wearing the official Ministry insignia on it's left wing. It stood regally in a pool of melted ice cream while it waited for Harry to take the letter.

"We're needed at the office." Harry told them as he read the message. "Something has happened, they need everyone."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Hermione told them, as they got ready to apparate away. She felt a gnawing apprehension.

It was very bad.

When they reached the Auroring office it seemed deserted. The rows of cubicles were empty. Papers were scattered on the floor and a self-refilling coffee pot was pouring over the edge of the table that it sat upon. No one had bothered to turn it off.

"Hullo?" Ron called.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione whispered on edge.

There was a soft pop behind them.

"Misters Potter and Weasley! The Granger Miss too. Oh good." A high-pitched voice squeaked out immediately following the noise.

Dotty, the liberated house elf employed by their office, stood behind them in her spotless coveralls. She was twisting tiny hands together in agitation.

"What's happened," Harry asked stepping towards her. "Where is everyone?"

"Very bad, oh very bad Mister Potter." Dotty replied. "Those bad wizards being bad again, they are. Everyone went out, even Madam Amelia, went out all over."

Ron was shuffling through the papers the littering the ground. "Multiple attacks." He reported. "North London, Edinburgh, Shropshire, Sollihull, they've all reported sightings of the Dark Mark. This is a massive. Do you think that Voldemort has finally decided to face the Ministry head on?"

"Seems like it." Harry agreed.

"Dotty," Hermione kneeled next to the diminutive creature, "Is there anyone else here? Anyone who can give us orders?"

Dotty shook her head worriedly, "All left, they did, Dotty all alone to watch the office."

There was a distant shout.

Hermione stood quickly drawing her wand. Harry and Ron immediately rushed for the door. Hermione turned to the Dotty, "Stay here, use your magic to seal it up, don't let anyone in."

Dotty nodded and Hermione followed after her friends. They erupted into a silent hallway. Harry and Ron held their wands at the ready, each facing a different direction. Hermione kneeled on the ground between them.

"Where, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione closed her eyes and concentrated. The Auroring office was indeed empty. Stodgy old Mr. Melps was in the records library but the ancient wizard was half deaf and entirely senile, he would be no help. The potions staff was also missing. But moving rapidly a floor above them was a group of people that Hermione couldn't identify.

"Someone is trying to break into the offices upstairs." She said getting to her feet.

Harry was frowning, "They drew out the other Aurors so that they could easily break into the Ministry. What do they want?"

"Let's go ask them." Ron growled as he took off running.

Hermione and Harry followed after Ron, who was faster than either of them, down the hall to the door on the far end. On the other side of the door was a lift to the floors above. But before Ron could jerk open the door, Dotty popped into existence before them. She held up both tiny hands to Ron who stopped short.

"Dotty," Hermione cried as she crashed ungracefully into Ron. "I told you to stay in the office."

"Dotty will take you upstairs, faster this way, and they won't be expecting it." She said quickly in her shrill voice.

They looked to Harry, their perpetual leader, who shrugged, "Haven't traveled by house elf before, have we?"

"Well," Hermione replied, "House elves do have their own special magic that enables them to move through unplottable areas that normal wizards could not apparate and-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione." Ron interrupted snidely, "I hadn't realized that we had postponed our previously post-hast mission for a little lesson in house elves."

Dotty was nodding, "Too right, you are." And, with no more discussion, she clapped her miniscule hands together.

Hermione found herself rocketing upwards, the walls around them became a blur of color as they shot towards the ceiling. They didn't crash into it, as she had expected, instead Hermione felt as if her very being had loosened. Hermione felt airy and liquid all at the same time. Then with the merest of blinks they were through the ceiling and her feet were touching the ground as corporeal as ever.

"Wow," Ron muttered.

Dotty nodded quickly before vanishing again.

They found themselves in a long room with stainless steel tables and walls lined with glass-fronted shelves containing many curious items. A container of metallic butterflies floated a foot off the floor near Hermione.

"Lot of odd stuff," Ron said as he looked cautiously around. "I haven't ever been up here."

"Me neither." Harry agreed.

Hermione said nothing for a moment then after their odd looks, "I have been up here a time or two. I think the head of this department, Mr. Ollerton, was trying to tempt me into transferring. He showed me around. They do some really fascinating wor-"

"That's all well and good but we're in the middle of something here." Harry broke in. "Hermione, where should we-"

From the far end of the hall, an explosion followed by the sound of cascading glass, rang out.

"This way," Harry hissed and they raced off down the hall, wands at the ready.

The sounds were coming from the farthest door at the end of the long room that Dotty had brought them to. Hermione could feel the presence of five other people in the antechamber: one whose aura was pale and weak.

"Five people." Hermione whispered, "I think one is wounded."

"Do they know we're here?" Harry asked.

Hermione bit her lip then shook her head. "I don't think so.

Harry nodded grimly before exchanging a glance with Ron. "Right, let's go." With a masterful swish of his wand the oaken door exploded inward spraying the contents of the room, inhabitants included, with splintered wood.

What followed happened very quickly.

The Death Eaters, there were four as Hermione had predicted, were standing around a table topped with mounds of scrolls. Mr. Ollerton himself was laying in the fetal position on the floor not far from them. Blood was trickling freely from a gash on his forehead and he was shaking with what could only be the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse. The cloaked Death Eaters had been momentarily stunned by Harry's dramatic entrance. In fact, it appeared that one of them had been hit rather soundly with a piece of the door, his mask had been knocked partially askew and the curve of his left cheek, which Hermione could now see, was scratched and raw.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted as he stepped past Harry into the room.

One of the Death Eaters, the tallest one who stood to the far right of the table, brought his wand up quickly. "Impedimenta!"

Ron's charm was deflected harmlessly.

Hermione, in a move that they had practiced many times before, cast, "Lumenerupto", onto one of the pieces of broken door that lay on the floor near the Death Eaters' feet.

The chunk of wood suddenly gleamed with a light so bright that it was blinding. The Death Eaters cried and attempted to cover their eyes but the damage was already done and they were momentarily dazed.

As Hermione had cast her charm Harry and Ron had both rushed to either side of the room and had cast Stupefy at their vision-impaired enemies. The shining light of the wood burned down to a mere glow and Hermione cast another spell as the Death Eaters began to fall, the first felled by Harry, the second brought down immediately after by Ron.

"Accio!" Hermione called quickly as the cloaked figures fell. In a great rush of air the scrolls that were important enough to lure the Death Eaters into the Ministry of Magic swished off the table and into her waiting arms. The force of it knocked her back a step.

The daze had worn off. The tall Death Eater, the one who had blocked Ron's charm, grabbed the arm of his only conscious fellow and jerked him towards the door. He cast another Impedimenta charm at Harry and Ron just managing to stop their Stupefy charms.

Hermione, already off-balance by the weight of the suddenly acquired scrolls, was knocked easily aside by the escaping Death Eaters. The scrolls rolled across the floor.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted together.

Hearing the panic in their voices, she rolled quickly onto her side and cast her own Impedimenta charm. A red light hit her shield only a split second later. Hermione couldn't help the tiny scream of shock and relief as it bounced backwards and hit a table near the casting Death Eater.

The table, much like Harry's door, exploded.

The Death Eaters turned and disappeared into the hallway.

"Are you all right?" Ron had reached her.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione pushed Ron's helping hands away, "Are you daft?" She cried,

"Go after them, stop them, I'm fine!"

Ron squeezed her shoulder before pulling away from her. Harry had already run past them and Ron followed him through the door. Hermione got gingerly to her feet but her ankle twitched painfully under her weight. She was going to be hard pressed to keep up with Harry and Ron. She could hear shouts and explosions as curses were exchanged somewhere down the hall but they were fading. Hermione growled in frustration. What type of Auror was she if she couldn't even keep up with her partners?

"Dotty," Hermione called suddenly, an idea having occurred to her, "Dotty?"

A half second later and Dotty popped into existence before her.

"Oh, Miss Granger, Dotty has been hearing awful things, are you all right?" The little creature leaned over and placed a motherly hand over Hermione's ankle.

This distracted Hermione for a moment. "Dotty," She asked thoughtfully, "How did you know where I was hurt?"

Dotty smiled sagely, "Us house-elves know a bit more magic than the wizards seem to think, do we?"

Another crash, muffled as if it were coming up through several floors, prevented Hermione from querying Dotty for any more information concerning House elf magic.

"Dotty," Hermione asked, catching one of elf's hands in her own, "Can you take me downstairs to Harry and Ron?"

Dotty didn't seem to think that that was the best idea that she had heard. "They is fighting downstairs, and you are hurt. Wouldn't be safe for you."

"Please Dotty, I have to be with them." Hermione pleaded for this was already taking to much time.

With a dark look that clearly said that she wasn't happy about doing it, Dotty nodded and jerked Hermione down through at least four floors in a blink. Hermione almost lost her balance again when her feet reformed on the ground floor of the Ministry.

"We went faster that time," Hermione felt dizzy.

Dotty nodded and pointed at the open door not far from them. "That door goes out into Diagon Alley. It's the back door, not many use it. But those bad wizards, they knew."

Hermione nodded, she understood Dotty's message. One of the remaining Death Eaters must work for the Ministry.

Hermione limped to the door, as Dotty had said, Diagon Alley stretched past her. Wizards were running and screaming. The two Death Eaters stood proudly in the middle of the street just a step beyond the unplottable border that surrounded the Ministry Headquarters. Harry and Ron stood ten feet from them to the right and the left. Harry's left arm was hanging oddly at his side but he showed no sign of pain. His face was set in a determined, furious expression.

The Death Eaters were not pointing their wands at Harry and Ron but at a crowd of frightened witches and wizards that hadn't been able to make it to safety.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered, "Oh, they can't."

But apparently they could.

The tall wizard, his mask-covered face never turning from Harry suddenly shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

People screamed as the killing curse shot into the defenseless crowd.

"No!" Harry shouted, "Stupefy!"

The other wizard took the hex straight on but the tall Death Eater apparated away just in time. His not-so-fortunate comrade lay unconscious in the street.

Ron rushed forward and cast ropes around the prone man. The crowd had grown very still.

Very quiet.

Harry stood facing them, unable to approach.

Hermione came limping up to the group of witches and wizards. "Is anyone hurt?" She asked, her voice dry, she already knew the answer.

Hermione had heard this type of relieved silence before in her seventh year when the Creevey's parents had died.

The crowd backed up, letting her through. In the center was a tiny woman kneeling over a painfully familiar young man. His eyes were open and glassy with death. The woman turned to look at Hermione. Her Weasley-red hair framed an alabaster, white face.

"We were meeting for lunch, Hermione, didn't I tell you earlier?"

* * *

It was a cold day for a funeral.

Hermione hadn't ever been to a funeral, at least, not one that she could remember. Her mother had told her once how she had plucked all the petals off of a purple carnation wreath that had rested at the foot of her great-grandmother's casket but Hermione had been far too young to recall that particular memory. Even though she knew it was wrong, Hermione hoped that she would somehow manage to lose this memory as well.

Ginny was sobbing.

There was black lace at the end of her sleeves and Hermione curled her fingers into it, stretching the delicate Italian handiwork as she tried to hide the trembling of her hands. Harry, who had thus far been a silent and steady presence to her right, noticed and caught both hands in his own. His black dragon hide gloves, like all things made from dragon hide, were oddly warm to the touch. But her trembling didn't stop. Hermione wasn't cold.

She was numb.

A priest stood at the head of the open grave. Despite marrying a witch and having a wizard for a son, Seamus' father was devoutly Catholic and had insisted on a proper burial for his only son. His family, muggle and not, sat on rickety chairs in three rows. Ginny sat with Seamus' mother. Ron stayed protectively at her side.

Hermione glanced away from the spectacle, her eyes wandering over the crowd of familiar and strange faces that had come to mourn the passing of Seamus Finnegan.

The graveyard ran across a rolling, green hill. Headstones, some so ancient that they had been scraped smooth by the salt winds of the nearby ocean, were scattered across it. A sharp, biting wind tore at Hermione's hair, which had come loose from its tight knot earlier that day.

They should have saved him. No one said it. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione all knew that it was true. Seamus Finnegan had died at the hands of Lord Voldemort's supporters in an act of senseless violence.

Wind whipped ruthlessly over the hills, tugging at Hermione's black dress and robe. She turned her face into Harry's shoulder and tried not to cry tears of inconsolable guilt. What was the point of all the work they had done so far if innocent people kept dying?

When was it going to end?

As they started to cover the coffin with dirt, Harry began to lead her away. Neither of them wanted to talk to Ginny or Seamus' parents. Hermione knew, without needing to ask, that Harry had hoped that the wedding would never happen. Hermione knew, that he felt as though it was his fault.

"Ron is going to stay at the Burrow for a few days." Harry said softly, his voice low so as not to draw attention. He was staring down at the rocky ground as they walked. "He said that there would be a wake-"

"Can we just go home?" Hermione cut in, the thought of being around Seamus' family longer than was absolutely necessary was making her feel sick to her stomach.

Harry looked up quickly, relief bright in his green eyes. "Sure, we don't need to stay."

Hermione nodded her head slowly. They didn't need to discuss it anymore. He knew why she wanted to go home, why she didn't want to go to the wake. They would end up explaining what happened again and again. How many people would ask them if they could have done something differently? How many would ask them if what the Death Eaters had been after was worth saving if it meant costing Seamus Finnegan his life.

And the truth was that it hadn't been worth it.

The Death Eaters had broken into the Ministry to steal a few scrolls that contained nothing more important than a payroll list for the Agricultural and Magical farming department, a charm devoted to cleaning out the purple dye of the rafflesia flower, and a map of the third basement level at Gringotts that, according the goblins, was so out of date that it was useless.

The Death Eaters had broken into the Ministry to prove that they could. To show wizards that they weren't safe and that the Auroring department was populated by fools. And poor Seamus Finnegan had just been in the wrong place at the worst possible time.

They didn't speak at all on the auto ride home. They could have apparated to the front gate of their flat but Hermione and Harry both found an odd touch of comfort from the muggle action of taking an auto.

She took a bath, immediately after arriving home, that was so hot her skin was splotchy with red and white patches when she got out. Hermione put on her most favorite pair of pajamas, the worn blue flannel ones with little stars, even though it was only four in the afternoon. She didn't bother with her hair at all and it hung in a dripping mass of tangled curls down her back.

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table when she came out. He hadn't moved at all since they got home. One elbow was propped on the table and he was rubbing his forehead. He held his old glasses loosely in his other hand. Hermione approached him carefully; she wasn't able to read his emotions like she normally could.

"Harry?"

"I wanted something to happen." He replied. "I didn't want her to get married."

"Harry," Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer the comfort that she herself needed. "This isn't your fault."

He laughed oddly, a choked noise that sounded closer to a sob, "Didn't you hear me, Hermione?" He looked up at her over his shoulder, his eyes not quite able to focus on her, "I wanted something to happen."

Her lip trembled and tears began to slip down her cheeks. Hermione leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in an awkward hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder.

"I did too, Harry."


	27. Uncreative Evil

Author Notes: I'm going to try to be more prompt about updating. I already know how the fic ends, I just need to get it out. I think that I should be able to finish this fic off in 5 or 6 chapters.

* * *

The key to Lord Voldemort's immortality was, much to Hermione's surprise, very easy to find. Considering the numerous texts devoted to the Dark Arts that Draco had brought her, it had come as a shock to find what she wanted four pages into the very first book that she opened. And while it looked to be a highly time consuming spell, the general magic used was quite simple, the concepts could be understood and mastered by a Hogwarts' 5th year.

If pressed, Hermione would have admitted to feeling a slight disappointment in the Dark Lord's un-creativity. Thankfully, Sirius did not think to ask.

"Somehow," Hermione murmured, after having read the chapter in question three times, "I expected something a bit more difficult."

Sirius, who had taken it upon himself to make breakfast, leaned out of the kitchen. "It sounded complicated when you read it earlier. Doesn't it involve potions, charms, and rather extensive knowledge of magical creatures?"

With a shake of her bushy, brown hair Hermione leaned back in her chair. "It is complicated, I will give it that. However, with a little bit of determination almost anyone could do it. One does not have to be a powerful wizard to cast the spells required. You would not need a Potions Master to brew you the necessary liquids."

Hermione set the book, which was bound in dark, cracked leather, on the kitchen table and fixed Sirius with a thoughtful glance.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," She answered and quickly leaned back over the table so that her loose hair could hide her blush.

Hermione couldn't possibly tell Sirius that, for a moment, he had looked quite handsome standing there in the arch of her kitchen, spatula in hand. She had certainly never wanted to do horribly illicit things with Ron whenever he used to make breakfast.

Hermione was finding Sirius' attempts to not antagonize her to be even more distracting than when he was. She kept being struck by the shine in his hair, the strength in his hands, and that hopeful smile he seemed to have permanently possessed since waking up that morning by the side of her bed. He hadn't wanted to leave her alone while she suffered the after-effects of Mulciber's torture. It didn't matter that he had received the brunt of it or that she, oddly enough, really wasn't suffering very much from it. He had stayed the night with her, his calloused hand gently brushing her hair back from her forehead in an intoxicatingly sensual sort of way. She had been certain that there was no possible way that she would fall asleep with him leaning so protectively over her. How could sleep overwhelm her when his near presence had been making her heart beat faster?

But it did.

And he had stayed with her through the night. When Hermione had awoken that morning Sirius had been fast asleep, his head leaning back, mouth slightly open, and his right hand resting on the bed atop her own. He had looked so young to her then.

"Did you want toast? I found some marmalade in the back of the pantry." He asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione looked up startled, her cheeks going pink again, "Sure, toast would be good."

Sirius smiled at her, a knowing smile that Hermione wasn't entirely sure she liked.

"What?" She asked sharply feeling unusually self-conscious.

Sirius came up to her, the cocky smile still on his face. He leaned down so that his face was very close to hers. Hermione could smell the subtle smell of Harry's soap on him. A few strands of his dark hair were still damp from his shower.

"Have I told you how pretty you are when you blush?" He asked softly.

Goosebumps rose on her cheek where his breath gently caressed. She looked up at him wide-eyed, the cursed flush going even darker. Hermione shook her head slightly at him even though she knew that it was a rhetorical question.

"Well," He continued, his hand cupping her cheek gently, "It does."

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as he leaned down further to kiss her.

But he stopped just a hair's breath away from her. Hermione opened her eyes. He was smiling at her, not cockily or calculatingly, but honest and happy.

"I always wanted to tell you."

The front door opened.

Sirius jerked back from her. He spun around, his left hand grasping Hermione, who had started to go past him and held her behind him. He pulled his stolen wand from the back pocket of the borrowed jeans he was wearing. Steps came down the hallway towards them and Sirius suddenly thrust Hermione away from him and into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" A disinterested voice asked.

Hermione regained her footing and rushed back out of the kitchen. "Draco, you are all right." She said happily.

He looked tired and worn but Draco smiled at her. She walked past Sirius, ignoring the fact that he still hadn't put his wand away, and hugged the younger man tightly. His arms came up around her and he squeezed her back.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her. "And why haven't you magicked away this bruise on her cheek?" He asked Sirius over her shoulder as he ran a finger along her cheek.

"I feel fine, a little tired, but oddly enough no after-effects of the Cruciatus." Hermione replied, ignoring his mention of the dark bruise that still marred her face.

Draco set the tip of his wand against it.

"There is no need to remove-" She started to say but Draco didn't listen.

He murmured quietly and Hermione could feel the skin at the point of his spell relax. She knew that her face was no longer disfigured.

Sirius glared at Draco. "Hermione said that she didn't want it removed."

Draco sighed as if he was dealing with someone very slow. "You will find that there are times when you just shouldn't listen to her." He smiled at her. "She's not always right."

"I never said that I was. But you know-"

"Oh," Draco interrupted, "I smell toast and marmalade. I'm famished."

"I guess getting rid of a body will do that to a person." Sirius responded.

Draco said nothing.

Hermione's balled her hands into fists; she was so tired of the petty fighting. If it wasn't for Draco, they would probably both be dead now.

Then, as if reading her thoughts, Sirius put his wand away and said softly to Draco, "I shouldn't have said that."

Draco studied him silently.

Hermione stood between the two men, watching as some unspoken communication passed from one to the other. Draco nodded finally and he relaxed slightly. The tension, silent and creeping, that had been lingering over the flat ever since Draco and Sirius had taken up residence eased. Hermione sighed with relief. She was terribly tired of playing referee to two adult men.

"Now, about that toast?" Draco prompted with a gleaming smile that he used to charm his was under the robes of more witches than Hermione wanted to think about.

* * *

Hermione pushed a wayward curl back into the pitifully loose knot of hair at the back of her head. She twirled a quill absentmindedly in her right hand, the dark blue plume swaying rhythmically back and forth, unaware that both Draco and Sirius had stopped to watch her with exasperated looks. When she began to tap the fingers of her other hand on the book in front of her Draco cleared his throat.

"Hmm?" Hermione murmured without looking up, the tapping pausing only momentarily.

"Hermione." Said Sirius and he reached across the table to touch the back of her restless hand.

That brought her out of her reverie. Draco had to restrain an amused chuckle as she shot out of her chair, hand clutched to her chest as if it hurt.

"What?" Hermione gasped.

Sirius was openly grinning at her response. "You were fidgeting. I was finding you to be highly distracting."

Hermione bit her lip and tried not to blush at his openly suggestive remark. "Well, please forgive me," She grumbled, still unknowing rubbing the back of her hand, "I'll try not to bother the two of you again."

Draco nodded. "You have my deepest thanks."

Hermione huffed before stalking past them into the dark kitchen. They had spent the rest of that morning, afternoon, and most of the evening reading through the ancient books that Draco had brought her the day before. With an almost friendly truce having finally been called between Draco and Sirius they had settled into the mode of fellow researchers quite well. Sirius, like he had claimed, was well versed in Latin. He was far more competent at the translation than either Draco or Hermione. Draco unsurprisingly, given his background, was quite proficient with the Dark Arts. He was able to draw parallels between many different spells and potions at once from memory. And Hermione, being an astoundingly gifted spell learner was able to test most magic after only a single read-through.

Not that Hermione would ever admit it, but when it came to research, Sirius and Draco far surpassed Ron and Harry.

From in the kitchen Hermione could hear Draco yawning.

"About time we called it a night, don't you think?" He tilted his chair back so that he could see her. "It's almost one."

Hermione finished pouring herself a glass of juice and emerged from the kitchen frowning. "But we're not done. We still haven't-"

"Do you really expect us to find a way to thwart one of the greatest dark wizards ever known in just a day's worth of research?" Draco asked.

She had been hoping.

"Of course not," Hermione replied.

"It's almost like there is an urgency." Sirius interjected. He had been deeply engrossed in a text apparently devoted to interesting and obscure ways of removing one's flesh without causing immediate death.

"Not planning on going out to take on Voldemort tomorrow are you?" Draco chuckled.

Hermione took a long sip of her juice.

"Are you?" Sirius asked with a concerned look, his dark eyes catching her fiercely.

"Of course not," Hermione replied with a straight face, "why would I go looking for Voldemort tomorrow?"

Sirius and Draco looked unconvinced.

Hermione drank the rest of her juice quickly. "But you are probably right, Draco, it is late. We should go to bed."

"Tomorrow, for a change of pace, I think we should study the potion aspect of his enchantment." Draco said while arranging the thick pages of vellum that he had been taking notes on. "That's the part that I really find interesting. He has all these different spells that he binds to a rather simple potion base."

"Well, you're right," Hermione agreed, "That is part of what I find so interesting about all of it. It is just so simple. Everything about the enchantment is simple."

"Makes me wonder why more people don't do it."

Hermione nodded and added, "I wonder if there is something more to it, something that we're just not getting."

Draco crossed his arms and scowled at the open book as if expecting the solution to just magically appear.

Hermione yawned. The backs of her eyes were beginning to ache. Yesterday had been a long day, what with the torture and the killing, and she had spent all of her time today hunched over old, moldering books. She distractedly squeezed her right shoulder while leaning her head to the left. "I think I'm going to take a bath." She mused aloud more to herself than her companions.

"Need any help?" Draco responded without looking up. "I'm very competent at holding towels and the application of fragrant oils."

Sirius scowled but didn't rise to the bait.

"Thank you, but no. I would rather do without the distraction."

"That is very true," he picked up a book entitled 'A Witch's Guide to Ritualistic Mutilation' and started to thumb through it. "I can be quite engrossing."

With a roll of her eyes Hermione walked into her room. A bath would do her good. She needed to relax and she needed time to think. With her guests being as distracting as they were Hermione was finding it difficult to focus as much she needed to. Time was running out. There was a growing apprehension, a growing excitement, in her stomach. Harry and Ron were close to finding Voldemort. The Dark Lord was about to show himself, to finally step out into the sunlight and declare himself for the entire world to see. But Harry was going to stop him, and Hermione and Ron were going to help if Hermione could figure out a way to undo Voldemort's protections.

She ran hot water into the bathtub. Hermione must have used a dozen scouring charms on the faux porcelain surface trying to expunge the oddly colored rings that marked it but with little success. She wasn't sure what the former renters had bathed in the bathtub, possibly pigs rolled in purple paint, but after three weeks Hermione had given up and had decided to accept the violet rings as a unique part of her living environment.

Ginny Weasley had given her a whole set of Bathilda's Bathing Beauty Salts for her birthday last year. Hermione chose the vial of juniper and hemlock salt to pour in. The steaming water immediately turned green with swirls of silver. Hermione slid gently into the water, wincing slightly as the too-hot water came in contact with strained muscles.

Hermione let her mind wander for quite some time before making it return once again to what was important.

If Voldemort could make himself practically immortal then Hermione knew that she could figure how to take that power away from him. Everything that they had sacrificed up to this point, would be futile if she couldn't get her head together long enough to figure things out. Hermione knew that she had to stop letting things divert her from the goal. She had to stop letting Sirius distract her.

There was soft knock on the bathroom door followed by Sirius' voice, "Hermione? Are you all right, you've been in there a long time?"

Hermione groaned, slid down in the water, and submerged her head.

Fat chance.


End file.
